


Definitely Something

by KingsAndSaints



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: And Still All They do is Talk, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bad Communication in General, Billy Hargrove Lives, Billy Hargrove is Bad at Communicating, Billy is a Frat Boy, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Canon Divergence, College, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Has Issues, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Giraffes, Internalized Biphobia, M/M, Mention/Discussion of the Feeling of Rape, Mutual Pining, Nightmares, Past Near Death Experiences, Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-Season/Series 03, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Questioning, Semi-Public Sex, Steve Wears Glasses, Steve is Bad at Reading Billy, Steve is a Business Major, Steve is a Dumb Bitch, University, but make it funny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2020-07-31 12:24:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 76,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20115067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KingsAndSaints/pseuds/KingsAndSaints
Summary: The Harringrove College AU that no one asked for. It’s the winter of 1987, when Steve’s roommate’s girlfriend shows him a piece of research from one of her professors, a social experiment of 36 questions that could supposedly make any two people fall in love. Even if those people hate each other's guts.- Inspired by The Experimental Generation of Interpersonal Closeness by Arthur Aron et. al. -





	1. How it starts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> featuring a malfunctioning alarm clock, a neglectful Business major and a very bad idea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya! A small note before you start reading: this is one of those fics where there are songs that go with particular scenes. As you'll see, I post them directly in the text. Right now the amount is still pretty tame, as the chapters become gradually longer. But some chapters have quite a lot of songs in them and I don't expect you to listen to all of them (although I would recommend it :) ). So here's how the song thing works: songs that are really important for the scene will be in bold. Maybe you can't read and listen to music at the same time (I know I do) but maybe just listen to the first 30 seconds to get the vibe and come back to it later. Songs that also add to the scene but are less essential will be in normal type. These are more likely to provide background information on how the characters are feeling about each other, themselves or the situation, but they don't necessarily speak to the scene in a literal sense. And finally, there are some songs in the Spotify playlist (link at the start of the chapter) that are not mentioned here at all. It's either because they are an alternative to a song I chose to be more fitting or they just didn't warrant a link to a specific scene. These songs are mostly about what isn't mentioned in the text, but really only hinted at.
> 
> But I've made this sound way more complicated than it has to be. If you like music to enhance your reading experience, you might wanna check them out, but I'm not your boss. This is your party. I'm just doing the catering.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this!

[[playlist]](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5eQniOZmzfhBL5g2qeAeY6?si=4UbFnP0_TlKdoH-cLA_dMg)

**December 13th, 1987**

"For FUCKS SAKE! It’s not like I’m asking you to keep the world from turning. I’m just saying that it _ would have been nice _ if you set an alarm like I asked you to do!” Steve threw around the pieces of clothing they had discarded the night before. Billy meanwhile had found the pack of Malboro's and was lighting his first cigarette of the day. 

“Time wouldn’t stop if the earth stopped turning. You’d still be late.” He muttered through clenched teeth as he snapped his zippo under the tip. Steve glared while he hopped into his jeans. 

“Yeah, and who’s fault is that?” 

Billy's head snapped up. His teal eyes locked onto Steve like the finder of an air rifle.   
“‘Cuse me?” his voice was raspy but poignant. It was too late to call it his morning voice. “I’m not your _fucking _nanny, Harrington. Be glad I let you stay.”   
Steve's jaw went slack. Of course. _Of course, _Billy would pull a stunt like this. He shouldn’t even be surprised. 

He continued to put himself together as Billy opened the window by his bed and smoked. He couldn’t possibly have looked less bothered. The sheets were pooled around his lower half, which Steve knew to be as naked as the visible parts of his body. The boy looked like a painting, so serene and unmovable, gazing out of the window, low sun casting shadows over every angle and curve of his body. His eyes were small and puffy as if they were actively trying to keep the daylight out. 

If Steve hadn’t been so pissed or in a hurry, he would have dug his fingers through those curls that he already messed up the night before and he would have buried his nose in the smell of everything they’d done. 

But Steve was already late while Billy had time. He seemed to have all the time in the world. Cradling his cigarette of the day between lips, he watched the other students pass by, huddled up in big coats and scarves. He grimaced at the familiar burn in his throat before the smoke poured back through his open mouth and nostrils. And as Steve buckled his belt, he wondered if this was how the boy started every day, if he let the mornings wait until he was as ready instead of chasing after it, like everybody else. 

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Steve asked. Billy didn't lift his gaze.

“Probably.” He mumbled while he brought his cig back to his lips. Steve rolled his eyes. This guy.

“Where are my glasses?” He sighed. Billy glanced around and ended up digging them from underneath the pillows.

“Ah, _fucking hell _ .” Steve cried when he noticed the bend in the frame and snatched them from Billy’s hands. The nose bridge was arched outwards, bringing the temples closer together. Too close to putting them back on without giving yourself a migraine. Just thinking about made Steve’s hangover pop it’s head up. He tried to bend the bridge back into shape and naturally because that was just his kind of luck, it snapped in two.

“Oh FUCK RIGHT OFF!”

“I have neighbors, you know.” Billy’s disinterest was getting on Steve’s nerves.

“Yeah, well they already know you’re a slut so I wouldn’t worry about them.” He snapped. A grunt escaped his lips. He’d only been awake for 10 minutes and everything was already going wrong. Billy didn’t seem to have a spare fuck to give, but when had that boy cared about anything but his own pleasure.

“Right, I’m off” Steve was about to hurry back to his own dorm to pick up his books, hand on the doorknob when Billy called after him. Clenching the broken pieces of his glasses in his one hand, Steve turned around, resting the other against the door frame. Billy pointed at him with the hand that was holding his cig.

“This can’t become a regular thing.” He placed his cigarette back between his lips and mumbled through ground teeth: “People will talk.” Steve raised his eyebrows.

“That’s a concern to you?” In the first weeks of his freshman year, Billy had already made a reputation for himself as someone who will have sex with literally anything that walks on two legs. The fact that this included guys, well- fewer people seemed aware of that. Still, another voice chanting Billy's name loud enough to be heard from the end of the street was nothing anyone would raise an eyebrow at.

“Think it might concern you.” The words rolled cool and easily from Billy’s tongue. Something was growing in Steve’s throat and he just hoped that he’d get through the morning without throwing up.

“Yeah, don’t worry. It’s not gonna happen again.” He mumbled, rapping his fingers against the door frame. 

“You think this is the last time you’re gonna try to sleep over?” A dull skepticism was dripping from Billy’s lips. Steve stared at the boy in awe.

“Try- Dude, I-” He didn’t even know how to finish that sentence. Billy put his cigarette out on a causer on his nightstand.

“Just reminding you not to get attached.”

“Please. Don’t flatter yourself.” There was a few seconds pause before Steve spoke again.

“In case you forgot, you said right at the start of this that we would never work as a couple.” Billy paused to think.

“Sure.” He didn’t remember a whole lot about that specific night, but it sounded enough like him to take Steve’s word for it.

“Well,” Steve said while he shoved the broken halves of his glasses in his jean pocket.  
“You had your reasons to say that - and I had my own reasons to agree.”

Before Billy could reply, the door fell shut and Steve disappeared into the cold December morning. 

[[Florence + The Machine - Kiss With a Fist](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1SmxVCM39j4)]

//

The class was pushing it's midway-point when Steve pushed through the double doors of the lecture hall. An acute silence fell over the room when they opened with a loud creak. The professor's mouth remained wrapped around his last word as Steve's face turned crimson. He mumbled an apology, scanning the tribune for an empty seat. He felt everyone’s eyes on his back as he climbed the stairs to the back row while the teacher continued to rattle off his monologue on foreign tax policies. Steve pulled up a seat next to a girl who gave him a particularly stinky look. It wasn’t hard to guess what they were all thinking. Everything from the stench of his clothes to the state of his hair screamed: this man got laid. In his hurry, he hadn’t gotten the chance to wash off the night before.

It didn’t take him long to realize that without his glasses, he could barely discern the graphs that the professor was drawing out on the board, not from his strategically chosen seat in the back row. Not that it mattered. It all sounded like Klingon anyway. Maybe if he had done the reading he’d get at least the gist of what was being explained, but of course, he hadn’t gotten around to doing that just yet. 

Last night he really intended to break the chain and show up to class _prepared _for a change. But he forgot that there would be a rally for the upcoming football game and of course Robin went and he didn’t want to be left alone in the dorm room. So he told himself that he was only going for an hour. Max. And then he’d crack open those textbooks. But of course Billy had been there and things typically ended one way when those boys got into a radius of 30 feet of each other.

To his surprise, his mind circled back to what Billy had said just before Steve left. ‘Don’t get attached.’ Yeah, like that would be a problem. Their entire relationship was built on not building towards anything. 

As mentioned before, Billy was quick to make himself known on campus. It was practically impossible for Steve not to know that his high school nemesis had enrolled for the same college as him. It would only be so long until they’d run into each other at a party, a sports match, a mutual friend's living room. Steve knew that he was on borrowed time before he’d hear the long-forgotten title ‘King Steve!’ chanted at him from the other side of a room. People would turn their heads. Surely the new kid wasn’t talking to _that _Steve. In Hawkins, Steve had been a big fish in a kiddy pool (before Billy splashed him out of the water). But here at Bloomington, he was a goldfish in the Pacific Ocean. And quite frankly, he was drowning.

//

“Oh my God, Steve! You are un-be-**lie-**vable!” Amber howled as he passed the bong back to her.   
“Tell me: how many times have you fallen asleep in the lecture hall - this week alone?” Steve rolled his eyes and muttered something about not having kept count, which - of course - is an answer in and of itself.

“You need to switch majors, man.” Amber cough up a cloud of thin white smoke in the already quite foggy dorm room. She slapped Steve's knee and made the boy jump in his seat.

“I keep telling you, you’d love psychology!” Steve grimaced and shook his head.

“No, no way. I can barely keep up with business school. Why the hell would I study something that’s all grey areas? That’s- it’s just not me.” Amber glared at him.

“It’s _not _just grey areas. You do research and you get actual results! Like- I’ve been doing lab hours as a research assistant for a study by this one professor, Arthur Aron. It’s about creating intimacy between two people who have never met before- wait. I’ll show you my notes.” She got up and returned shortly after with a few stacks of paper, covered in small type. Steve leaned over in his chair.

“Okay, so it’s been a long-known fact within the field of psychology that mutual self-disclosure is a very important factor in relationships, be they romantic or platonic or familial: when you share aspects of your life, it strengthens the bond between two people. But in this study, we’re looking to discover if intimacy… can be engineered.” Her eyes glinted as if she was engaged in some secretive, ancient kind of magic.

“Engineered how?” Steve eyed the sheets suspiciously.

“I’m_ getting _ to that. So we divide the group up into twos and have them ask each other 36 questions. They each have to answer, but they ask they alternate between who asks and answers first-”

“Why do they alternate?” Steve asked, a finger to his lip as while Amber handed him the notes.

“It’s- to keep it a mutual thing. Instead of one interviewing the other, they kind of take turns in asking and sharing. The questions are designed to have people open up to each other and share intimate details about their life- WHICH” Steve had opened his mouth again, but was silenced before he could interrupt. “WHICH generates a feeling of closeness and intimacy, aka...” Amber looked at him expectantly. Steve blinked a few times, hoping that she’d finish the sentence herself. 

“Love!” She slammed her hands on the armrest of her chair, causing Steve to jump in his seat for the second time in five minutes. “Goddammit, Steve. I swear you can be so daft sometimes.” 

“You can actually make people fall in love with this?” He gestured to the paper with cynicism in his eyes. 

“So far, in all pairings, at least one person has said that they would like to see their conversation partner again and in 92% of cases this feeling was mutual.”

“That’s crazy. How long does this take?”

“An hour on average. We do about three interviews in a session.” 

“And people have actually fallen in love over this?” Steve asked while he went through the pages. There were some notes on setting and preparation, followed by the full list of questions. Three pages, each with twelve items. He could still vaguely hear Amber rambling in the background.

“That’s the best part. So we’ve been doing this for a few months now and of course, we’ve gone through different iterations of the experiment. Some questions have been added, others left out. But yesterday we got an invitation from this one couple-”

Her sentence was cut off when the door flew open and a cold riddled Robin marched through, inviting a cough of frisky winter air into the dorm. 

“Close the door!” Steve and Amber both yelled at the same time. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Robin yelled back, her voice stifled by her clogged sinuses. But even with her decreased sense of smell, the stench of marijuana was undeniable.

“Guys!” she whined while she took off her scarf. “Is that my weed?” 

“I’ll get it back to you.” Steve giggled, leaning over his armrest to see into the hallway.

The dorm rooms at Bloomington we're not particularly large. They only consisted of a small living room, a kitchen, two bedrooms, and a bathroom. Amber technically didn't live with them, but at the start of the year, her roommate had very excitedly entered a new relationship. This was just a nice way of saying that she and her boyfriend were fucking like rabbits every spare moment of the day, on every surface they came across and Amber couldn't do anything in peace without the sound of their moaning in the background. On top of their small size, the dorms also didn't have particularly thick walls. Even after three full months, the couple showed no sign of slowing down and so Amber spent most of her waking and sleeping hours at Robin and Steve's. Their down was decidedly messy but in a cozy way. It was a lived space, with textbooks and used cups sprawled over every flat surface. Most of the furniture pieces were hand-me-downs from people in their circle. The couch and the chairs for one, were so worn that you would sink five inches into the cushions. At 5 pm in Indiana’s winter, the sun was setting quickly. Steve and Amber hadn’t realized how dark it had gotten until Robin flipped the light on, casting their tiny living room in a dim yellow glow. She snatched the bong off the coffee table and mumbled, “I don’t need your leaf. Your dealer is shit,” before taking a hit. 

“Well if you’d tell me who your guy is, I wouldn’t have to keep stealing yours.” Steve threw back. 

“Robin!" Amber jumped in before the two of them would enter a bickering contest. "Would you like to go to a wedding?” Robin gasped and held a hand to her chest.

“Amb, I don’t know if I’m ready for that kind of commitment.” Amber shot her girlfriend a pedantic glare. 

“Someone _else’s _wedding. I was just telling Steve about this experiment I’m assisting-”

“The one with the questions and the things?”

“Thank you for also including ‘the things’. Everyone forgets to mention 'the things'. I was just saying that yesterday we got a letter inviting the whole team to a wedding from two of our participants! Isn’t that crazy? Three months ago they were strangers and now they are engaged!”

“Damn, that’s wild, Sweets,” Robin sniffled. 

“So,” Amber sing-songed, “Will you do me the honor of being my plus-one?” Robin let out a tortured sigh. 

“I don’t know if I can be around straight people for that long.”

“Hey!” Steve frowned. “You _ live _ with _ me _.”

“Oh, so you mean you finally stopped screwing around with Hargrove? Glad to hear that tragic chapter of your life is over.” Robin muttered while she disappeared into the kitchen. Before Steve could come up with a snarky comeback there was a knock on the door. 

“I’ll get it.” He grunted and pulled himself out of his comfy air chair. 

As if he was summoned by the utterance of his name, it turned out to be none other than Hargrove himself Steve barely had the time to blink before a jacket was thrust into his hands.   
“You forgot this, this morning.” Steve’s fogged up mind was still getting used to the sight of Billy with actual clothes on. Like- clothes that _cover your body._ The boy finally seemed to have gotten the hang of Indiana weather and was wearing a hat, scarf in the university colors and a dark blue puffer jacket that - get this - was actually zip all the way up. Who knew a day like this would come. 

“You smell nice,” Billy smirked, glancing over Steve’s shoulder into the dorm room. Steve was still present enough to take a step sideways to block the view. 

“Yeah, we’re erm- burning some incense.” He said. Billy chuckled, revealing his pearly whites.

“Yeah, I bet.”   
“So, are you going to the game tonight?” Billy’s eyes trailed up and down Steve's person.

“Sure, I mean-” Steve exhaled, completely oblivious of how Billy was practically eye-fucking him. “I probably need to catch up on schoolwork, but-” He made a wavy hand gesture. “You know. How things go. Robin's probably going to drag me along anyway. I don't know why, but for a lesbian, she's very intrigued by guys wrestling each other for some balls.” 

Billy squinted his eyes, mouth slightly agape. “Sure.”

“So- guess I’ll see you. We could meet up afterward- if you feel like it.” Billy’s eyes flickered up and down between Steve’s eyes and his lips.

“Yeah,” Steve replied absentmindedly, “Who knows.” And then, without as much as a nod, Billy turned around and left. 

Steve stood in the doorway for a few seconds, devoid of thought and filled with confusion before the girls yelled from: “CLOSE THE DOOR!”

“Right, right,” Steve mumbled before he shut the door behind him. 

//

Later that day Steve was bent over the kitchen table, trying to mend his broken glasses with sellotape. The Innovation Science textbook was opened in front of him. It was _open_, alright? That was a success in and of itself. So Steve decided to celebrate that small success with a snack. But then he found that they’d run out of snacks. So he had to get new snacks but before he could get snacks, he would need his glasses because it wasn’t safe to go into traffic with poor sight. He could get run over or trampled. It was a safety hazard. So it was very important that fixed his glasses first and everything else would come second. 

Steve held the product of his work up for inspection. It wasn’t anything to write home about. The sellotape stuck more to itself than to the frame. You would have thought a five-year-old child had done the job. Steve sighed and put the glasses back down. It was a real shame. He’d only gotten them a few months ago.

It took Steve the longest time to realize that he needed glasses. Sure, he got headaches all the time, but that was just because he didn’t drink enough water. And the reason why he struggled in class was just that he was too lazy to pay attention. It would never have occurred to him that he might need a prescription if he hadn’t stolen a friend’s glasses on a drunken night. Everyone had laughed at the way he’d voiced his surprise upon putting them on, the astounded expression on his face had been priceless. 

For what might have been 20 minutes or he, he’d glanced around the room, mouth half-open, unable to convey into words what it was that he was experiencing. No one really batted an eye. They just thought his LSD had kicked in. And to be fair, Steve might not have been on psychedelics, but he was pretty far gone at that night. What had him speechless, however, was how incredibly crisp everything suddenly looked. He could read the title on a Beatles poster on the other side of the room. He could actually tell the band members apart. He could tell that Robin was worried long before she actually reached him. 

“Are you okay, bud?” She shouted in his ear. All he did was nod. 

“Is this what it's supposed to look like?” It might have been the alcohol, but there was something wet in his voice. Who knew the world could be so detailed?

It took Robin literal weeks of talking into Steve to actually convince him to get his eyes tested. 

“I don’t have a good face for glasses,” He’d mumble as if that had any bearing on whether or not he needed them.

“Steve, there’s a right pair for everyone. You’re not gonna look like a nerd, I promise.”

She kept that promise. It took them four hours of walking in and out of shops, consulting with shop clerics who proved their infallible patience. It's wasn't until Steve put on a simple pair of black metal framed glasses that something clicked. He examined himself in the mirror from all angles. 

“These look really good on you!” Robin said. It wasn’t the first time she’d said those words, but it was the first time Steve believed it.

This was a face he could get used to. 

At this point, he couldn’t imagine his life without them. Not being able to see properly made him feel like a baby. He could barely distinguish the titles on some of the articles at the end of the table. 

Steve picked the paper up. ‘The Experimental Generation of Interpersonal Closeness,’ it read at the top. Right, this was Amber’s project. He skipped through the pages again. As he went through the questions, he found himself rather unconvinced. It felt so- cheap. Surely love had to be more than just knowing things about each other. If that was the case he should have fallen in love with Robin- okay he’d had a crush on her, but that was different. That was before he _really_ knew her. There were other people he knew plenty about. Like Dustin. Yet he’d never _ever **dreamed**_ of making a move on that child. Ew gross. 

But now that he thought about it, all the people he knew loads about were people that he liked. Did he know all that stuff because he liked them or did he like them because he got to know them? 

His eye paused on one of the questions. 

  1. _Is there something that you’ve wanted to do for a long time? Why haven’t you done it?_

Steve paused to think, frowned. He looked down at the sheets of paper in his hand, flipped through them again. Then, as if he was pulled up by a string, he jumped out of his chair, snatched his jacket from the floor and in the wink of an eye he was out of the door. 

Only to return two seconds after and march into Robin's room ("Um, can I help you?"). He walked straight up to her bookcase ("Hello?"), picked up a copy of Shakespeare's completed works ("NO!") which upon opening was revealed to be hollowed out, containing a handful of tiny packets of a moss-like substance ("I told you to get your own!") He snatched one of them and pressed the 'book' into Robin's hands. 

"I'll get it back to you!" He yelled as he raced out of her room.

"YOU'RE AN ASSHOLE!" 

That day, Steve Harrington did something he had never done before and would probably never do again.

He went to the library.

//

The weather had picked up while Steve strutted back down the same path from which he came twenty minutes prior, fresh snow crunching under his shoes. The dark had long settled on the overcast campus grounds. Steve hiked up his shoulders to try and keep the snowflakes from crawling under his coat collar. His breath was shallow, the copied pages of the Experiment of Interpersonal Closeness weighing heavy in his bag. He was still unsure of whether or not this was a good idea. Something, deep in the pit of his stomach warned him that it would go horribly, horribly wrong. But Steve was the kind of man who would try to fix his glasses with sellotape. He wasn’t one to perk his ears when his gut told him something was doomed to fail. 

He halted in front of one of the dorm buildings and pushed through the doors. The hallways weren't much warmer than the outdoors, not with students walking in and out of the building, causing a constant influx of cold air, but at least it wasn't snowing. Steve howled up three flights of stairs and paused before the second door to his right.

'Last chance to back out,' his gut told him. Steve lifted his hand to the doorbell. 'Alright.' it sighed. 'You're on your own.'

It took a moment or two before the door opened and a young man with thick black hair towered in the doorframe. He had barely laid his eyes on Steve before he leaned back and called back into the apartment:

“Hargrove!” Lyall yelled. “King Steve’s here for you!” Steve never quite got along with Billy’s roommate. He was loud, obnoxious and in every way what you imagine a fraternity brother to be. Lyall disappeared into the living room just as Billy made his way to the door.

“What are you doing here?” He frowned and draped his body against the door frame. “When I asked if you were going to the game, I didn’t mean it as a date.”

Fuck. The game. Of course.

“Oh-shit. No, I know. I forgot about the game, honestly. This is not- It’s not _ like that_.” Of course, he had thought about how he was going to sell this to Billy. He just hadn’t come up with anything vaguely convincing. “Can I come in?” He asked through his teeth.

“No.” The frown still hadn’t left Billy’s face. “Because I’m leaving. _For the game_. In like 10 minutes”

“Oh.” Steve tapped his shoe on the doormat. “Yeah- no that’s on me. Sorry, bad timing. Maybe another time-” It sure didn't make it easier for Steve to construct a coherent sentence when Billy staring him as if he was speaking in dialect. So he just stopped altogether so that there was no sound between them except for the sound of Steve's breathing. 

“Why are you being weird?” Billy asked, with a slight shake of his head. His eyes were drawn to slits. Not in a menacing way, at least so it seemed. Billy seemed rather relaxed, now that Steve was thinking about it. 

“I- I don’t know.” Steve lifted his arms and let them fall to his side again. 'Go on.' he told himself. '_Something you’ve wanted to do. Why haven’t you done it?' _Steve pursed his lips.

“It’s a long story, erm... can I come in for a second? It’s… cold.” Billy’s eyes paused on the snow that was caught in Steve's hair. “Fine. But I’m still leaving in 10.”

Steve looked at the threshold as if it were a river he needed to jump. Despite the turmoil in his stomach, he took the leap.

He followed Billy into the hallway as the younger guy picked up a pair of Combat boots. His dorm did not look all that different from Steve and Robin’s except that the furniture was definitely a step up (probably gifts from Lyall’s douchebag oil dad). The clutter levels were roughly the same, although the makeup was different. Whereas at Steve’s the mess was mostly compiled of colorful mugs and the odd dictionary, Billy’s surfaces were clad with empty Marlboro packets and layers of clothing that appeared to be dropped where they were taken off. The walls were mostly bare, spare for a few movie posters. By the state of the place, it looked like they had some friends over the day before and had gotten only halfway through the cleanup. Steve almost tripped over a beer can while he tried to explain his idea.

“So my friend is doing this experiment where she has two strangers ask each other questions and it’s supposed to make them fall in love or something-“ Billy looked over his shoulder, raising a single eyebrow.

“She looking for volunteers?” 

“No, but I thought we could try it,” Steve said. "You and I." Billy halted his strides. Steve’s heart stopped beating.   
“As a game of sorts. Just… not the kind of game you were planning to go to I guess.”

Billy stood there for a second, in his socks, holding a pair of boots in one hand, his face blank. He closed his eyes, chuckled and shook his head. 

“Let me get this straight.” He uttered. “This morning I tell you not to get attached-” Steve raised a hand.

“I know- I know how it sounds-”

“Then what the fuck do you want me to think, Harrington?” Billy hissed. “What do you _ want _ me to make of this?”

“Okay.” Steve was starting to feel the pressure of the situation. “Here it is.” A silence fell over the room. He had hoped that whatever he would have to say next would magically appear to him if he commanded it to. 

It did not.  
Until it did. 

“So- Amber said they do this experiment with people who have never met." He started. "That’s not really that hard. Most people like- they will want to be nice to each other. Especially if they know they are being judged-”

“Dude, just get to the point.” Billy snapped. Steve had to take a deep breath to stop himself from smothering the guy on the spot.

“I was just thinking-” He stopped for a second to gather his thoughts. “If we do this... just the two of us with no one else watching or judging- if this can make two people who _hate _each other fall in love- or even just _like _each other... then they must really be onto something. Right?” He paused.  
“I mean- I’d ask someone else but I feel like we actually have the least in common out of anyone I know, so that should be the ultimate test. Right?”   
“It’s not like I’m actually rooting to fall in love with you or anything. Honestly, think I’m just doing this to get out of schoolwork.”  
“Besides, what do we have to lose?”

"Can you just say something?"

Billy still hadn’t opened his mouth, but something in his expression seemed to have shifted. His confusion had made way for a thinking frown. He looked over his shoulder into the living room before he returned his gaze to Steve.

“What’s in it for me?” He asked. Steve tried his best to keep a straight face.

“Well if this works and we do end up falling in love I bet tonight is going to end in very, _ very _ passionate lovemaking.” Billy puckered his lips, unconvinced. Steve caved.

“I brought weed?”

// 

Billy coughed after taking a huge drag. “Dude, this is good stuff. Who do you get this from?” He hung sideways in one of the leather chairs, his feet dangling over the armrest. The armrest of _his chair_. That was a mistake Steve wouldn't make again.

'Out of my seat, Harrington. You can take the couch.' 

So Steve took the couch.

“Those secrets are not mine to reveal,” He mumbled as he cleared up some space from the overspilling coffee table. Billy had convinced Lyall to go ahead and save a seat for him at the game with the promise that he’d get there once he was ‘done here’. Lyall had not asked any questions. 

"This is basically 21 questions, right?"

"I mean- yeah, kinda. Except it's 36 questions and someone else chose the questions and it's backed up by science."

"Alright, if you say so," Billy mumbled, twirling the joint between his fingers. Steve started to wonder if Billy planned to share or if Steve was supposed to roll his own. 

“How long do you reckon this is gonna take?” Billy asked. 

“Amber said it usually takes them an hour or so.”

“So we can still catch the end of the game?”

“I mean- yeah, sure.” Steve straightened his back, hands splayed on his knees.   
“Okay, I think before we start we should set up some ground rules.” 

“You take this game rather serious, don’t you?” Billy said with a high chuckle. Steve didn’t think that being serious was necessarily a bad thing, but Billy sure made it sound like it. 

“I mean- we’re kind of doing science, right?” He tried. Billy shrugged, which in his case could almost count as an approving gesture.  
“So the whole objective of the game is mutual self-disclosure. Now- I don’t know what that means, erm... but I- I think it has to do with sharing things about yourself." Steve rolled his lips between his teeth. "So I think it’s important that we answer honestly, for a start.” Billy’s eyebrows rose slightly.

“Alright,” he mumbled. “What else.” Steve pushed up his glasses.

"Let's... try to keep things civil. I don't think this is going to work if we're in each other's hair the whole time." 

"I think you're gonna have to pick on or the other, because both might be a stretch." Steve held Billy's stare until the guy finally sighed and caved.  
"Fine, civil **and** honest. I'll try my best."

"Greatly appreciated. Then... Let's think... Amber said that we have to alternate who ask the question. So how about I take the odd numbers and you ask the even’s.”

“Sounds perfect.”

“Alright,” Steve straightened the pages out. “Question one.”

[[Tessa Violet - Bad Ideas]](https://youtu.be/eNtK6jx9y4A)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that was the first of five chapters! I've already got most of the story written (scratch record: this was not true. at the time of writing, she had around 20000 words total when the story as a whole would turn out to be over 60000 words), so updates shouldn't take too long. Do let me know what you thought, which parts you liked (or didn't like)! It's just nice to know that someone actually found this and made it to the end. 
> 
> This fic is also available on tumblr - I'm @kingsandsaints.  
Jiske


	2. Set One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> featuring a pack of bandaids, an unexpected phone call and the reluctant recollection of childhood trauma

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While writing this I realized that American universities probably don't have kitchens in the dorms because y'all weirdos don't cook or something. To be honest, I have never seen an on-campus living space, so if there are any inaccuracies, that's totally on me. But what I'll say for myself is that in this universe, there are monsters from alternate dimensions and girls with telepathic powers and big Russian conspiracies so the kitchened dorm room is just my contribution to that worldbuilding. Just one more thing that reminds us that: this world, that we are ever so briefly visiting through the power of fiction, is not our own. 
> 
> And also it's my fic and I can do whatever the fuck I want.
> 
> I hope you like this chapter

[[Playlist]](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5eQniOZmzfhBL5g2qeAeY6?si=d7Dc8-hyQI-riKcGT4r-jQ)

[[Teen Suicide - im so fucking bored]](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3abhmGGJ0Ns)

Steve woke up the next morning with the taste of death in his mouth and a headache strong enough to break an Icelandic glacier. He let go off a slow, mournful grunt as rolled over, sinking deeper into the covers. Something felt off and it wasn’t just his head. Did he fall asleep with his clothes on? Why were they sticking to his skin?

As the memories of the night before began to flood back, he let out another, louder groan. He wasn't sure if it were the thoughts or the act of thinking that was causing him the pain. 

"Great, you're up." Robin's voice cut through his skull like a cleaver. "Care to explain why Lyall Weinstein showed up at our door last night with you hanging over his shoulder like a ragdoll?"  
Oh god, that was real? Steve hoped that was just a weird dream.

"I don't want to talk about it," He grumbled, eyes squeezed shut to ward the light off. Robin had walked from her position in the doorway to the side of his bed, arms folded tightly in front of her chest.

"You're a real asshole, you know." Her tone was strained, but quiet. Steve could not be bothered with it at that moment. Too busy frying himself in his own regret and embarrassment.

"I feel sticky."

"You're wet. You were soaking wet when you got here. I don't know why, but you were really wet. Lyall said he found you in a field close to the tennis court."

"My head feels too small for my brain," Steve whined as he buried his face in his pillow.

"For that to happen, you'd first _need_ a brain, dingus." Steve let out another yelp when she pulled the pillow from under his head.

"First you _steal my weed_ \- for the _second time in one day,_ I might add - and then you just disappear for the rest of the evening when we said we'd go to the game together, only to be dragged home around midnight by some rando beefcake. I spend the _whole_ night worrying where you were. You're a **dickhead**." She hit him with his pillow and marched out of the room. Just as she was about to close the door, she paused.

"You were with Hargrove, weren't you?" Steve didn't stir.   
"Thought so," she breathed. "Consider that hangover your lesson." And she slammed the door shut with a bang that had Steve squirming under his sheets.

//

Robin refused to acknowledge his presence throughout the entire morning. No matter how Steve tried, she wouldn't even look at him. He would ask her if she wanted coffee, if she had fun last night, if Amber was coming over later today. 

She wouldn't budge. 

At last, he pulled out a chair on the other side of the table and placed a cup of coffee in front of her, a tall glass of water and paracetamol for himself.

"I'm sorry, okay?" He said. "If it makes you feel any better, I doubt you'll be seeing much more of him." A few seconds passed before Robin finally looked up from her book. Even then, she hesitated to speak.

"Something really shitty happened, didn't it?" The anger and resentment had left her voice. They had made way for some more subtle emotions that Steve found much harder to read. Was she disappointed? Was she sad for him? He swallowed thickly. It didn't feel good either way.

"I don't even know what to make of it, honestly." He looked down at his glass, swirling the water, waiting for the drug to dissolve. Robin bit her cheek.

"Why don't you just start at the beginning?"

//

Steve cleared his throat. “Alright, question one:  
"Given the choice of anyone in the world, who would you want as a dinner guest?”

The question hung in the air like the set up of a joke, waiting for a punchline that didn’t seem to come.

“Knowing that is gonna make you fall in love with me?” Billy chuckled after a few seconds of silence. Steve had to admit, it was kind of anticlimactic, but he decided to play along.

“It’s what I’ve been dying to know since the second I saw you.” He spoke languidly.

“You saw me on the first day of school and you thought-” Billy could barely contain himself “MAN, I wanna know- I NEED to know! Who that fucker would have dinner with!” Steve squinted.

“Is this your way of telling me you can read minds?”

“You were hoping I’d pick you, didn’t you?” Billy grinned, tongue poking out between his teeth. Steve dropped his gaze. That was not a hot flush. His cheeks just got red when he'd just been in the cold. It is known to happen to a person. It had nothing to do with Billy wacking his stupid tongue at him. 

“And you were praying that I’d say yes, huh?” He mumbled.

“I was actually hoping that you’d be on the menu-” Steve’s eyes widened.

“RiGHt. Well- if you still want to catch the end of the match, you might wanna answer the question.”

“Right.” Billy seemed to think for a second, but rather quickly his face crinkled up again and he lost himself in a fit giggles. Steve furrowed his brow, completely lost on what could possibly be so funny.

“**_What_**_?”_

“_This is so dumb_.” Billy wheezed. His body shook, from his chest to his toes which were still dangling above the ground, legs still were draped over the armrest. Billy carried himself with the energy of a bratty teenager who got a rise out of torturing the substitute teachers. Clearly, the guy hadn't grown a day past high school. Steve’s lips disappeared into a thin line.

“It’s just an easy one to warm up.” I think. 

“Does that mean that we can skip it?”

“No, we have to do them all. That’s part of the experiment.” Billy’s eyebrows skipped impatiently.

“M’right.” He sighed and blew up his cheeks, fingers rapping against the leather of his seat. After a few beats of silence, he sighed again and said, rather exasperated: “Honestly, I really don’t care as long as the food is good.” Steve’s patience was growing thin.

“Just _pick _someone!”

“Fine! D’erm- Lars Ulrich!” It came out with a futile hand gesture as if Billy tried to wave the answer away before he had even spoken the words. Steve raised his brows.

“Why him?”  
Billy shrugged. “Because you said to pick someone.” Steve clenched his jaw. The sight of Steve’s scrumped up face made another giggle bubble out of Billy.

“You know you don’t _have_ to do this, right?” It came out waspish, more so than Steve had intended. “I’m not _forcing_ you to do this.” Billy tried to keep a straight face that lasted all but one second before he burst out laughing. Steve leaned back into the couch. Giving Billy weed had been a bad idea. Maybe the whole thing was a bad idea. Maybe this just didn’t work with people who already knew each other. Or people you knew to be assholes.

“Come one." Billy urged, "Next question.” He held the joint out to Steve (which he gladly took) (God knew he needed it).

“No, first you ask me for my answer.” Steve took a hit, held it for a second or two before he let the breath go. He relaxed his shoulders on the exhale. He sighed in relief as he felt the calm wash over him. The squeaky leather couch suddenly became a lot more comfortable and Billy didn’t seem half as insufferable as he had ten seconds ago. 

“Fine." Billy sounded bored. "Who’d you have for dinner?” Steve had been so busy being annoyed with the guy that he hadn’t even thought of his own answer.

“I think… I’m gonna say, my parents.” Billy stared at Steve as if he’d just told him that dogs have six legs.

“You know you can choose literally anyone in the world?” Billy asked in mild concern.

But Steve shrugged, took another drag and said: “Yeah, I don’t know. They’re the only people that come to mind. They were out for work a lot, so family dinners weren’t really a regular thing for us. Maybe once a week we actually managed to get all three around the table and- yeah, these days I see them less than ever so I just kinda miss them I guess.” Billy stared blankly for a second and Steve half expected him to respond in a way that was heartfelt and compassionate.

But then he chanted  
'cool, next question!' and Steve could rest assured that Billy would not be taking any of this seriously.

“Fine. You read the next one.” He handed the list to Billy.

“Would you like to be famousss?” He read. “In what way?”

“Eh, I guess it’d be cool," Steve repositioned his glasses. "Yeah. But like- Smashing Pumpkins famous. Not Micheal Jackson.”

“So music?” Billy asked. Steve pulled a face.

“In a perfect world, I guess. But I don’t really have any musical talent, so that’s probably never going to happen. What about you?” Billy didn't have to think long about his answer.

“Yeah, I guess being famous would be fun.” The tongue poked out again.  
“Like Indiana Jones or something. If that doesn’t work out I can always do porn.”

“You’d like to be known as a pornstar?” Steve had to admit, he wasn’t entirely surprised. Billy shrugged.

“I don’t see any downsides.”

“You might get AIDS.”

“Haven’t they cured AIDS?”

“No,” Steve stated. Billy frowned.

“I thought they cured AIDS.”

“No, the big deal thing is kind of that it can’t be cured. They know that it’s a virus but there’s no cure.” Billy held his frown as he let out a thoughtful hum.

“Alright. Then I guess I want to be known as The One Porn Star Who Is Immune to AIDS.” A chuckle escaped Steve before he could stop himself. He cleared his throat.

“Good call.” He gestured for Billy to hand him the questions back.

“Before making a phone call, do you ever-”

“Do you want a bandaid?” Steve looked up from the paper. he wasn't sure if this was the set up for a joke or a bad pickup line. But judging by Billy's face, it seemed like a genuine question. Either that or he took his jokes rather seriously.

“Do I what?” The words stumbled out of Steve in a monotone mumble.

“For your glasses," Billy explained. "You keep pushing them up.” Steve didn't know what to say. In a way, he was surprised Billy had noticed it in the first place, much more that he'd offer a solution. 

“You think that will work?”

“We can always try.” The boy wiggled himself out of his seat. “What was the question again?” He called as he disappeared into the kitchen. 

“Before making a phone call, do you ever rehearse what you are going to say?”

“Eeerm- No,” he said, followed by the sound of drawers opening and closing. “People do that?”

“Yeah, I guess. I mean- if it’s something important like bank stuff. Or my parents. I'll think about what I want to say."

“Hm, never done that," Billy replied. "Maybe it’s because I don’t really call people. They usually call me.” A fridge door opened.

“Do you want a drink?” In all the times Steve had been over, Billy had not once offered him as much as a glass of water.

“Sure.” He called back, a surprised quip in his brows.

“Beer?”

“Yeah, sounds good.” Billy returned to the sitting corner with a sixpack of Budweisers, a box of bandaid and a pair of scissors.

“What’s the next one?” Steve flipped the paper so Billy could read it. The boy leaned in as he tried to open a beer without looking down at his hands.

“4. What would constitute a ‘perfect’ day for you?” Billy mumbled. The can opened with a loud sizzle, foam springing from the lid. Billy swiftly brought it to his mouth to prevent it from overflowing.

“Enlighten me, Harrington.” He smacked his lips after he deemed the damage controlled.

“Perfect day…” Steve repeated while Billy handed him his beer. “Good weather, let’s start there. No school. Friends. Food, preferably.” He thought for a second but couldn’t come up with anything else. “That about sums it up I guess. As long as I'm with people I like and we don't get nuked by the Commies I guess any day could be perfect. What about you?”

“Cali," Billy answered without a seconds doubt. "Every day in Cali is perfect.”

“Yeah? Perfect how?”

“Like you said, weather, friends, food, beach, surfing, bonfires.”

“You surf?” Steve had better luck with his can, which didn’t erupt upon opening.

“Yeah, big time.” Billy nodded.

“I didn’t know that.” There was a pause.

“Well, there weren’t many waves to catch in Hawkins,” Billy stated. He picked up the pack of bandaids and shook a strip out of it.

“Yeah, well I guess that’s true,” Steve mumbled while he took his glasses off. He examined them one last time. The sellotape didn't just work poorly - the halves kept sacking down, which made the wearer look like a sad beagle - the taped also looked absolutely ridiculous. He doubted that a bandaid would restore its original charm. Still, he handed them over to Billy, who started peeling the tape off right away.

"Ask me the next one," He said while he cut the cotton off the bandaid.

“When did you last sing to yourself? And someone else?” Billy’s eyebrows jumped.

“Last time I sang to someone else was probably Happy Birthday or something.” Steve burst out laughing.

“Yeah, I guess that’d be the same for me. Last time I sang to myself was probably while doing the dishes.”

“I’m not that much of a singer. Maybe if there’s a good song on.” Billy added.

“I’ll take it,” Steve grinned. This actually seemed to be working out. This was fun. Certainly more entertaining than watching 22 guys wrestle each other in the freezing mud over a strangely shaped ball.

In the meantime, Billy was done with Steve's glasses.  
"It's not great but I hope it will do." He said when he handed them back to Steve. Still, he found, the difference was incredible.

"_Oh_, this is _so_ much more comfortable." He said right after putting them on. The plastic had been really scratchy and because his skin couldn't breathe underneath it, he got sweaty and the glasses kept sliding down.  
"They don't slide anymore." He noted. The fabric of the bandaid also kept the frame steady on his nose. The halves still sagged a little bit, but at least the adhesive secured them into place.

"I'd still go back to the store to get them properly fixed," Steve shrugged at the comment.

"I think I'll just get a new pair, to be honest. I don't think it's gonna look great when they have to melt it back together." Billy's eyebrows rose slightly.

"That's also an option of course." He mumbled, more to himself that to Steve as he took another pull from his beer.

//

"I have to say, this looks a lot better than the job you did." Robin mused as she studied Steve's new look. He sighed and brushed the hair out of his eyes, behind his ear. 

"I know. I don't even know what I was thinking at the time." 

"But also- no offense, but this is really boring. Why don't you get to the part where he hurt your stupid feelings so I can beat his stupid face in."

"_You're_ gonna beat Billy Hargrove up?" Steve scoffed. Robin leaned in and _oh god_ he knew that look.

"Listen, I might not know taekwondo," she whispered, "but I've been in band for 12 years and trust me when I say that a clarinet can do some decent damage if you wack it correctly." Robin's face showed absolutely no hint of sarcasm. Steve smacked his lips.

"Alright, remind me to never cross you like _ever._" He really pitied the sorry fella who had met the brunt of Robin’s clarinet. The girl grinned over her coffee.

"I thought you would have known that by now."

//

Billy leaned over the page while he cracked a new can.  
“6. If you were able to live to 90 and either keep the mind or the body of a 30-year-old, which would you choose?” Steve exhaled deeply, crunching up his nose.

“Hmm-_ I feel kind of bad for saying body but body?”_ Billy laughed and shook his head.

“No man, body all the way. No shame-” Billy eyed the spliff in Steve's hand.

"Wanna trade?"

"Sure." Steve got the list of questions in return. 

“7. Do you have a secret hunch about how you’re gonna die?” If Billy wasn’t grinning already, he sure as hell was now.

“I already did!” He yelled triumphantly, lifting his arms as if he just told Steve he’d won the champions league. Inappropriate excitement, one might say.

It was true though. It took the paramedics two minutes to start his heart back up when he flatlined on the way to the hospital. None of them expected him to pull through. But in some miraculous way, they stopped the bleeding. The doctors were amazed that he woke up from the medically induced coma two weeks later. It was nothing short of a miracle that he made it out with no severe brain damage. Max had said that he was having some trouble with his short term memory, but other than that things were looking alright for Billy. He had to stay in hospital for four more months before he was released.

Steve laughed. “Okay, but when you actually definitely die to never return. How do you reckon it would happen?” Billy paused to think.  
“Erm- young probably,” He said as he toyed with his rings. He seemed very- unbothered by that prospect.

“Really?” Steve’s voice had jumped up a few notes. Billy smirked.

“That’s my secret. Even without that magical body-wish from the last question, I’ll forever be hot, because…” Billy leaned in “_I don’t plan on living past 30_.”

‘Weird flex,’ Steve thought. ‘But okay’

“Any guesses on how exactly?”

“Eh- accident probably. Off a cliff would be a way to go, but I’d settle for being hit by a truck. But I feel like it’s gonna happen in my car.”

“Doesn’t it... scare you to say that? Or to think that?” Steve asked quietly. Billy looked at him like he didn’t understand the question.

“No.” He said as if it were the most normal thing in the world. “I’m not afraid of dying. I’ve done it. It’s not all that bad.” He took another sip of his beer. Steve was amazed by the nonchalance with which Billy could talk about his own death as if it had been a bad cold.

“It sure looked bad.”

It really did. The sheer size of the pool of blood that was left on the ground after Billy had been lifted onto the stretcher was horrifying. Steve never knew a person could bleed so much. He swore he could see organs through the gashes on Billy’s sides when he was lifted onto a stretcher. There was fluid pouring out of him from every side. His mouth was filled with something that didn't even look like blood. He was barely breathing when they got to him.

Billy took another sip of his beer. He looked at Steve expectedly, waiting for the other boy to offer his answer. But when Steve opened his mouth again, he did not have an answer, but a question.

“What does it feel like to die?” Billy furrowed his brows. He bit the tip of his tongue as he thought.

“I honestly don’t remember much about it. It’s like- I was in a lot of pain and then… the pain kind of… stopped. Like how a noise fades into the background.” He pulled one leg up to his chest, resting his forearm on his knee. “I’ve been told that- when your body knows it’s dying, it just releases every happy brain juice you have left to make it more bearable. It just helps you go down smoothly.” Billy swallowed.

“I just felt this incredible peace. And I could_ feel_ God’s hand on me… that he was lifting me up and I knew that my fight was over.” Billy had turned to the window while he was speaking. His expression was unreadable, as it always was. Somewhere caught between melancholy and peaceful nostalgia. “Might be the happiest I’ve ever felt.” He said quietly. “Which kind of sucks, because I know I’ll only get to feel that way again at the end of the ride and who knows when that will be.” His eyes finally met with Steve’s again. “But yeah, I’m not afraid of death. Not keen on dying, but death itself seems like smooth sailing.” 

He grabbed his zippo from the table and reignited the joint.  
"So what’s your answer?” He asked as he took a large puff.

“Oh right, erm… pfff... I don’t know. I’m not really scared of death either or anything but… I feel like the worst would be to just be ill for a long time and have to suffer a lot and that makes me kinda feel like I’ll actually go that way.”

“Okay," Billy nodded thoughtfully. “I can see that.” They traded the kush for the questions without uttering a word.

“8. Name three things that you and your partner have in common.” Billy read.

“We’re both- students." Steve started. "We both lived in Hawkins. And-"

“We’re drinking beer,” Billy added, lifting his can in a toast, then held the paper out to Steve again. “Next.”

“Okay- I think we’re _both_ supposed to name three things.” Steve corrected. Billy frowned and looked at the pages again.

“It doesn't say that. Three should be enough, right?” Steve hesitated.

“But the idea is that with every question we both have to answer so I think we're both supposed to come up with three things,” He explained. Billy huffed and rested his head in his palm. It was funny to Steve how easily the tone had shifted back. He had worried for a second how they were going to dig their way up after talking about death for 15 minutes, but it worked out rather naturally. 

“So I already got beer,” Billy stated.

“No, you have come up with new things.”

“I came up with beer”.

“But you gave it to me.”

“Eeeh- that was never part of the arrangement, amigo. Beer is one. I got two more.”

“Fine, you do two more and I’ll do the last one.”

“Alright we- we both have dicks.” Steve pressed his lips into a flat line. “I mean, yeah. Fine.”

“We play basketball,” Steve added. Billy raised an eyebrow. That was totally a dig on how Steve didn't do a whole lot of 'present tense' basketball, but he was not about to let that get to him.

“Alright so last one…” They both had to think for a while. Billy almost spilled his drink when he slapped his chair.

“We both fucked a Wheeler!” He shouted triumphantly. Steve's jaw dropped.

“Did you _actually_ fuck Mrs Wheeler?!" He shouted. "I thought that was some sick rumor!” 

“I would have. But the Mind Monster was a bit of a cock block.” Billy shrugged as if it was nothing. “So half-truth. Like most things I guess.”

“So I fucked a Wheeler and you _lied_ about it,” Steve corrected.

“Let’s say-“ Billy paused. “The people of Hawkins _think_ that we both fucked a Wheeler.” Steve thought for a second.

“Yeah, I guess that will do.”

Just as Billy handed the list back to Steve, the phone rang.

“Tiiits-” Billy whispered and shoved the pages in Steve's hand before he hoisted himself out of the chair. “Sorry, I forgot I was supposed to call someone.” Steve grinned, following Billy with his eyes as the guy hurried into the hallway.

“People typically call you, right?” Steve called after him, smirking. Billy flipped him off, but not without a grin of his own. He picked up the phone and rested with his forearm against the wall.

“Hiya, it’s Billy.”  
“Hey. Sorry, I forgot to call. Been busy. How are things?”   
“Did you talk things over with Lucas?”  
“Alright, glad to hear that.”  
“No, I mean it. I’m glad you guys are okay.”  
“Eerm- yeah, I’m just finishing things up. Handing in the last papers. Exams and such. Should be fine I think.”  
“Yeah, I think I’ll leave here on the twenntyy fiiirsstt? Lyall and I were talking about doing a stop in Louisville, but we’ll have to see how it goes. I’ll definitely be home before Christmas eve.”  
“Yeah, hey I’m sorry. I’m gonna keep it short. I have company.” Steve could guess Max's reaction by the way Billy rolled his eyes.  
“It’s Steve actually.” Billy noticed the way Steve's face flushed and smirked.  
“Eeh, not really. I guess this is the first time we’re hanging out.” Steve smiled awkwardly. Billy smiled back. He briefly removed the horn from his ear.

“Max says hi.”

“Hi back!”

“He says hi back.”  
“Alright, I’ll talk to you soon. Yeah? Tell your mom I said hi.” Billy smiled.  
“I will. Okay. Alright, see you.” After they’d hung up, Billy paused in front of the phone for a second, his chin tucked, still wiping the smile off his face.

“How is Max?” Steve asked when Billy made his way back to his seat.

“Yeah, good. She’s a sophomore now. Can you believe it?” Billy sighed.

“I know,” Steve shook his head in disbelief.  
“It feels like yesterday that I was a sophomore. But eh- you’re celebrating Christmas with them?”

“Yeah, I think I’m just gonna stay with them for the holidays. Don’t really want to know what state my dad’s place is in.” Steve had been around just long enough to know about Neil and Susan’s split. She’d left him shortly after Billy had been dismissed from the hospital. By then it was common knowledge under the people in Hawkins that Neil was a stiff guy who had trouble holding a job down, due to his disagreeable nature (and a few rumors about drinking on the job). Apparently, their marriage had been iffy for a while. Susan had offered Billy to come live with her and Max, but he’d decided to stay with his dad. God knew why.

“What are you doing for Christmas?” Billy asked.

“Erm- my family is Jewish, so we don't really do anything big for Christmas. Probably just gonna eat out with the parents. My mom still likes to get us something for Christmas morning, but nothing too big.”  
  
“At least that means you get to dine with your favorite people.” Billy teased. Steve laughed.

“Yeah. I guess there’s that.” 

It had been strange to hear Billy on the phone with Max, especially after everything she’d told him about her brother. Steve had a feeling that things had gotten better between them after Billy’s accident, but it was still surreal to hear him talk so candidly to her.  
  
Suddenly he noticed that Billy had really long lashes. He’d known this, of course, but he never really _noticed_. You can look at someone while they are not watching, but it’s entirely different if they are staring back at you.

Billy smacked his lips. “Shall we move to the next one?” It was as if Steve had to wake up from a trance. “Yeah. Sure, erm… What are you most grateful for in life?”

“Beer,” Billy replied instantly and gestured with his can to Steve to signal that it was his turn. Steve wanted to ask for a more serious answer, but he also didn’t want to play cop the whole time. He was fully prepared to let it slip and move on, but Billy had seen the look on the guy's face and sighed.

“Fine, erm-” It was an odd sight, to see Billy really thinking. Steve noticed suddenly that it was the same look he had worn while he was puffing smoke clouds on his bed the same morning.

“I’m grateful that my body still works.” He said finally. “And that I can still play basketball. And that I’m fucking good at it.” Steve smiled. 

“I am grateful for… all the lovely people in my life. And my health.”

“10. If you could change anything about the way you were raised, what would it be?” Billy read. His voice gradually became quieter as the sentence went on, a subtle change that Steve did not seem to pick up on.

“I guess erm- this sounds so weird, but I wish my parents had been more like parents. I mean it’d have been nice if they were home more often, but when they were home they never got too involved. I had a nanny from the age of five, so they never had to do the hard work. They mostly just- cheered me on if that makes sense? They never set boundaries, told me off for something. I guess they just felt more like friends than parents.”

It was only when Steve stopped talking that he noticed how quiet Billy had gotten. He looked as if every muscle in his body was flexing at the same time, as if he wanted to become half his usual size.

“Yeah, I can’t really relate to that.” He said. His voice was impossibly still as if it was not allowed to be heard. Steve was almost afraid to ask. Opening his mouth felt like approaching a wounded animal on the side of the road. He didn't know whether it would cower or lash out at him.

“What would you change?”

Billy's answer took so long that Steve started to wonder if he had even heard the question. But then he finally looked up, his expression composed, he asked:

“Is it enough if I say ‘everything’?” And from the look in his eyes, Steve could tell that it was a genuine question, that Billy was asking not to be cross or to be snarky, but because there are some places in our minds that we rather not revisit. So even though the experiment was about opening up, he thought that Billy deserved to keep some doors closed.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “Of course.” Billy nodded, tucked his chin against his chest before he looked up again.

“Cool,” he mumbled while he handed Steve the files back.

“11," Steve read. "Take 4 minutes to tell your life story-“ Billy laughed, but there was no amusement in his tone. “-in as much detail as you want.” Steve looked at Billy, waiting for the boy to meet eyes with him. Billy smiled wryly.

“Guess I’m not getting out of this one.”

“We can skip it if you want,” Steve offered. His gentle tone of voice made Billy avert his eyes.

“No, I mean- we’ve made it this far.” Billy sighed. He puckered his lips.

[[Cable Rat King - Tom Milsom]](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nYcUfKDjxms)

It took him a while before he could get his thoughts together. Billy preferred not to think of his life as a narrative, but as something that was happening to him right now. Still, that was not the only reason why he struggled to find the story within his life’s experiences. Billy had grown up with different stories from his mom and dad, each true to a certain extent. But two halves don’t always add up to one whole truth, so Billy was left to pick and choose.

“So all my first memories are of my mom. My parents did live together until I was like... three or something. That was when my dad left for Vietnam. If I have to believe my mom, he’s always been an insufferable asshole - even then - so she saw her chance when she left and made a run for it, changed our last name back to her maiden name and we went to live with one of her friends for a while until we could get our own place by the sea. And that’s where I learned how to swim and surf and you know- those were the good times.” Billy sighed deeply.

“Then my dad got back from Vietnam. Got an early retirement because he got hit in the eye with a grenade shard. He was pretty pissed to find his house empty. He sniffed us in like- I think 6 weeks or so. Maybe it was naive of my mom to think that we could just disappear. It doesn’t matter either way. He took my mom to court for child abduction and managed to get her nine years in prison.”

“_She went to prison_?” Steve's jaw went slack.

“Oh yeah," Billy replied in a much lighter tone. "Haven’t seen her since,”

“Didn't you get to visit-”

“Wasn’t allowed. I was a minor. Needed my dad’s permission.” Steve was at a loss for words. Something seemed to clamp up his throat, something that forced anything he might want to say down.

“How old were you?” He finally dared to ask.

“I was 7 when the trail started, 8 by the time the judge decided the sentence.”

“How long did it take?”

“Almost six months. Which- the _fun_ part...” Steve could tell by Billy’s chuckle that he had absolutely no fond memories of this chapter of his life. “The fun part is that I got to spend that time in the foster system because my parents could not decide over who should have custody while the trail was running, so the judges decided to take me out of the house.”

“Holy shit,” Steve whispered. He wasn’t entirely surprised to find out that Billy had a checkered past, but this certainly wasn’t what he expected.

“Yeah, let’s just skip over that chapter.” Billy mused. “Anyhow, dad won the case, mom got locked up, so I went to live with my dad, which sucks because he’s a fucking dickwad. I’d only heard about him in stories up until that point, plus he took mom away, so I was pretty resentful and as you can guess he’s a very disciplined army kinda guy, so that clashed from the get-go. We moved around, wherever my dad could get work. Never stayed in one place for too long. Until like- I think I was 15 when he met Susan. Apparently, they were already engaged before he introduced me to Max and her.” Billy bit his cheek. “They got married and settled in San Francisco. There...” Billy trailed off. His eyes narrowing slightly, his lips closed.  
  
“I made a friend.” He said.  
“Dad didn’t like his influence over me so that, in part, contributed to why we moved to Hawkins. But it was mostly for the Old Man’s work.”

“What kind of work does your dad do?”

“He did security. He got a job offer for that research facility that closed down.”

“The Hawkins lab?” Steve's heart plummeted.

“Yeah, so he was rightfully pissed when it got shut down. Moved all across the country because they’d promised him a well paying job and a good shot at promotion and then all of that was just- gone.”

“Yeah, I can imagine.”

“But before that happened, I got settled, kicking your ass at basketball and breaking your keg record, proving to everyone that I am better than you,” Billy said with a big grin. Steve rolled his eyes

“Sure thing, Billy.” He was willing to give the boy that. If anything he was glad he was smiling again.

“Aaand then all that weird shit at the Byers happened. Still, don’t understand what that night was about. Then my dad lost his job, which was a _very fun_ period. He refused to go look for another job and actually stayed home for like- like six months before he finally went to some interviews. But meanwhile, he picked up a _fun drinking habit,_ which really didn't help with his temper.” Steve wanted to hit his past self over the head for not realizing that something was wrong in that house. He knew that Max tended to spend a lot of time outside of the house, rushing home at the very last minute to make it home before curfew. He had seen the bruises on Billy's back when they showered after basketball practice. He should have said something, at the very least asked if anything was going on. Meanwhile, Billy continued his story.

“Then I got possessed by a demon from an alternate dimension. Then I died. Resurrected. Went through a lot of physical therapy so I could go to college and take myself out of that shitty down. And now I’m here.” Billy opened his arms as if to say: ‘tada! here he is’. Steve whistled.

“That’s… quite a life.”

“Well,” Billy uttered as he reclined in his chair. “I did say that I’d change everything .”

“The part with your mum didn’t sound all that bad,” Steve said. Billy’s face relaxed.

“No, that part was fine I guess.” He took a deep breath and straightened himself up.  
“So what’s your story?”

“Oh, Gosh." Steve blinked, trying to figure out where to start.

"Okay, erm- so my parents met in college, I believe because they were in some Jewish Study group together. Or maybe it was a book club, I'm not sure. My dad was studying engineering, my mum was a sociology major. They got married. Bought a house in Indianapolis, where my dad got a job at a company that makes kitchen utensils, but like- the machines. Bread kneaders and blenders and stuff. My mum was working in community development and social work. There was a lot of crime and youth delinquency in that area, so there was plenty for her to work with. But it was also not a very safe place to raise a family. One night, a kid broke into our house - threw a brick through the window - and my dad had to chase him out with a gun. So they decided: ‘this is enough. We’re moving.’ and they came down to Hawkins. Bought a house there. I was maybe- five at this point, so I only have one or two memories of living in the city. Thing was… my parents’ jobs were still in Indianapolis. My dad had worked his way up in the company and was now earning a good wage, so he didn’t want to quit. And my mom’s work was also in the city, so they were out of town a lot, usually came home pretty late. So like I said, I was pretty much raised by this older Eastern European woman, Mama Selma. She’s like- a second mom to me.

“Meanwhile I went to school. Did alright. I got in trouble quite a bit for being a class clown and not doing my work, but I pulled through. Had my first kiss with Jessi Letterman-”

“Wait- you mean Jessi with the purple hair?” Billy’s jaw was practically on the floor, eyes shining with glee. Steve closed his eyes, aware of what was to come.

_“You fucked a goth?”_ Billy yelled. Whatever happened to having neighbors? 

“Okay, first off: it was in fifth grade so there was no fucking. It was just a kiss. And second: she was _not _a goth back then!”

“You fucked a goth,” Billy smirked.

“I bet you fucked one or two goths yourself.” Billy let out an indignant huff.

“Please, I have standards.”

“Anyhow," Steve snapped. "moving on to high school... You know, it was high school. Not much- Well, until the whole Demogorgon thing started happening. That definitely shook things up.” Steve paused to looked at Billy.

“How much… do you know about all that, actually? From before you arrived?”

“I heard that some people went missing. The Byers boy came back. But it had something to do with a monster and Ellen showed up around that time I believe.” That was not bad at all.

“Yeah, so- that’s the story, basically.”

“Were you involved from the beginning?” Billy took another sip from his beer.

“No.” Steve had to think. “I feel like I kind of stumbled into it. Actually, now that I think about it- every time I just- I was just at the wrong place or something. Or the right place. I don’t know.

“Anyhow, I was dating Nancy. Fought a Demogorgon. Everything went alright for a while. We broke up a year later. Shortly- like _days_ after there was this new invasion of these demodogs- they're like little Demogorgons. A whole shit show.   
But we beat those. I finished high school. Didn’t get into any colleges. I hoped my dad would kinda have my back and give me some kind of cushy office job at his company, but he went yapping on about the importance of ‘knowing the worth of a dollar’, so he made me get a summer’s job. So I ended up at Scoops. Then the whole Russian stuff happened-”

“Wait- what happened with Russians?” Billy interrupted. Steve frowned.

“Nobody told you about the Russians?” He asked, rather offended. He knew that Billy had been sort of preoccupied, bringing on the apocalypse and what not so he didn't blame the guy for not knowing, but you'd think that _someone_ would have told him about Steve's little escapade under the Star Court mall.

“What’s up with those Russians?” Billy asked, thoroughly confused.

“I was tortured by Russians,” Steve stated matter-of-factly. Billy almost choked on his drink.

“_You were tortured?_” 

“By Russians, yeah.” 

“WHY WERE THEY _TORTURING_ YOU!?”

“Because Robin, me and some kids broke into their secret laboratory under the mall.”

“The lesbian was involved in this shit?” 

“You’re more surprised that Robin was there than the Russian military base under the mall,” Steve deadpanned. “Really?” Billy pulled a face.

“I mean- something seemed off about that mall.” Steve felt about ready to yeet himself into a fire. 

“Yeah,” He muttered under his breath. “Sure.”

“So you were tortured by Russians and then?”

“Then we saved the day- well, you saved the day. Or Mrs Byers did when she turned the key off?”

“I don’t think it matters,” Billy said, imploring Steve to continue.

“Okay, so you died. Big media drama about Hawkins being the Devil’s Land. Yada yada yada. Erm... Worked at the video store for a while. Then Robin went back to school and I had to work with_ Keith_, who is an absolute PAIN IN THE ASS. But through working with Keith I realized that working minimum wage is hell and that I really wanted to go to college so I could get out of that hell hole. So Robin ‘helped’ me write an application essay,” air quotes, “Which ended up with her getting fed up with my dumbassery and practically writing the whole thing for me, which is probably the main reason I even managed to get in in the first place. And ehh, now we’re here!”

Billy nodded with a soft smile. He brushed a hand through his hair and chuckled:   
“That took us way longer than four minutes.” Steve's eyes widened.

“Oh, shit. We should have timed this, right?” Billy didn't have a clock anywhere. 

"Yeah, probably, but who cares." Billy shrugged. "I think lives like ours warrant a little more explanation." It was strange to hear Billy say 'lives like ours'. If anything, Steve had learned that their lives had been nothing alike. But maybe just by sharing that one surreal, supernatural adventure, they had something to bond over. They had both been deeply affected by something they couldn't openly talk about. Steve was pulled out of his thoughts by Billy's voice reading out the next question.

“12. If you could wake up having gained one new ability, what would it be?” Hmm...

“I’d like to play guitar." Steve decided. "Or any instrument really.” 

“That sure would help with your music career,” Billy smirked.

“Yeah, I guess so." Steve chuckled. "What about you though?”

“Eerm- I'd wanna fly- no- I want to be able to read people's thoughts.” Billy decided. "Wait, are we allowed to pick superpowers?"

"Yeah, sure," Steve said, his voice wavering with- intrigue.  
"I think I also want to change my answer to reading thoughts." He said. “That's a good skill to have."

Billy handed the list back to Steve, who flipped the page to find it titled 'set two'.

"Oh, we finished the first set." He said as he flipped back to the questions before.

“What do we do now?” Billy asked. That- Steve hadn’t thought about that.

“I don’t know actually. Erm-” He skimmed the pages, trying to find out if they should take a break or something. "It doesn't... say... To be honest… I’m not sure why they broke it up into three sets.” He mumbled. "It doesn't say anything about taking a break... or anything like that. I think we're just supposed to keep going. Why the hell is it three sets?"

Billy hummed in thought. A look crossed his face.   
“I know what we can do." He said, eyes shining mischievously. "I think we need a change of scenery.” He said slowly.

//

"Is that how you ended up in a field?" Robin's face was still riddled with confusion.

"No, that was later," Steve explained. "We decided to go to the frat house first."

"Why the hell were you in the_ frat house_ of all places?"

"Because... I'd never been there and he wanted to show me around. Everyone was at the football game anyway, so we'd have the whole place to ourselves."

"I don't get it-" Robin buried her face in her hands. "How did you end up on the ground?" Steve chewed on his lip as he tried to retrace his decisions from the night before.

"Well, something else happened while we were walking there."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My GOD! this was really hard to write because they're basically just talking the whole time. I'm quite comfortable writing dialogue but then dressing that dialogue, their gestures, movements, facial expressions is still something I struggle with. I guess it doesn't help that English is my second language. 
> 
> As always, you can find me on Ye Ole Tumble, my handle is @kingsandsaints,  
Jiske


	3. Set Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> featuring a silly hat, a forbidden bottle of liquor and surprising similarities between the laws of physics and attraction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ended up being a lot longer than I expected it to be, so just a heads-up: it's over 12000 words. I am so sorry. A lot happens in this one, lots of backstory, lots of emotional moments. Hope I haven't overloaded it. Next chapter should be shorter, but who knows. Apparently, I'm not the boss in this bitch.

“You know it’s just a walk across campus, right?” Steve eyed Billy with ridicule as the boy wrapped himself up in a big, red-white striped scarf. “We’re not scaling a tundra. Or climbing a glacier. Just- 10 minutes walk in the snow.” Billy glared at him, the lower half of his face mostly obscured by the scarf.

“It’s like 28 degrees out.” His voice was muffled by the fabric. Steve couldn’t help but grin at the sight.

“You remember when you first came to Hawkins and you were just strutting around with your shirt half on all year round?” He teased.

“Oh, do I?” Billy grumbled obnoxiously. “Whooping cough is not something you easily forget. Spend three weeks choking on my own breath ‘til I threw up. If you don’t mind, I’d like to keep my lungs inside my body this year.”

Steve hadn’t been surprised when Billy didn't show for the whole first month of the second semester. It was only a matter of time before the kid got a spanking from the ruthless Indiana winter. Turns out even big mouth assholes like Hargrove we not immune to the cold. Steve had been convinced that the only reason Billy didn’t freeze to death that first winter, was because he was literally made of hellfire. But after that first winter, he appeared to have learned his lesson. Steve didn't remember seeing him in less than two layers since the start of October.

“You sure you don’t need some gloves or anythin'?” Billy asked while he tucked the scarf into his coat. Steve looked himself down: sneakers and a good pair of socks, jeans and denim jacket over a sweatshirt. That should do the trick, right?

“I think I’m good,” he answered breezily. Billy’s eyebrows skipped as he shook his head in disbelief. 

“Don’t sue me when you’ve caught the plague next week,” he mumbled, while he pulled his hat on - a gray hat with a _ fluffy _pom-pom at the top. Steve snorted at the sight. Billy raised a brow as if he was daring Steve to comment.

“Problem, Harrington?” Oh if looks could kill. Steve smirked and flicked the fluffy ball on top of Billy’s head. 

“None at all. Let’s go.”

As soon as he stepped outside, a frigid gush of wind bit down Steve's neck. He hissed and hiked his shoulders up to his ears. Maybe a scarf wasn't such a bad idea after all.  
The campus was nearly deserted. The only other people out were some guys way down the fields who were busy building what appeared to be a giant dick statue made out of the snow (you know, a typical college student activity. They'd been popping up all over campus). From out of the distance echoed the booming sound of the commentary and the roaring of the crowds. But other than that it was a rather peaceful night. Steve craned his head and looked up at the sky, where the snow floated down ever so soundlessly, as if not to disturb the world underneath.

Once outside, Billy hiked his scarf down and pulled a pack of Marlboro out of his coat pocket. 

“Want one?” He held the pack out to Steve after he’d already plucked one out for himself. Oh, what an alluring sight. But Steve reminded himself of his mother’s call when Uncle Winston was diagnosed with stage three lung cancer last month.  
“No thanks,” He said, but he couldn’t deny the yearning he felt when he saw Billy place his smoke between his teeth, searching his pocket for a lighter. It took a few flicks for the flame to catch on. Steve gave him a curt nod, averting his gaze.

“Which way?”

“Auditorium.” 

They walked in silence for a moment or two, listening mostly to the crunching fresh snow under their feet. Out of the corner of his eye, Steve stole timely glances at Billy as he smoked. The ease with which his fingerless gloves wrapped around the cigarette, how the smoke pooled out of his nostrils, the way he caressed the filter to tap of the ash. It all seemed to come so naturally to him. 

Uncle Winston had been an anxious smoker, a permanent crease between his brow, his breaths short, fingers tapping, babbling on about whatever challenges his company was facing at that time. His father was a habitual smoker. One while he read his paper, one with his afternoon coffee, two right before he went to bed. His mother did it for the sex appeal. An yes, that was as uncomfortable for Steve as it sounds. Not that she was super obvious about it, but at some point, Steve simply noticed that whenever his mother had a cigarette in her hands, her body language changed and suddenly she only had eyes for his father. 

And Steve himself, well- he was probably the culmination of all three of them.

But Billy was a happy smoker. He didn’t do it to soothe an itch or to give his hands something to do or to impress other people. He just did it because he liked it. It didn’t matter that he was wearing a stupid hat and that his cheeks were glowing from the cold. He simply didn’t care. This, smoking, it was entirely for him. 

Maybe that was part of the pleasure that Steve found in watching Billy smoke. How private it felt. How at peace a guy like Hargrove could look under the right circumstances. As if he was in a world of his own.

“Shall we crack on?” Steve blinked when he found Billy's eyes had found his. He glanced away, hiking his shoulders up again. Billy smiled softly and pretended that he hadn’t noticed. 

“Oh- d’aaah yeah, sure.” Steve fumbled with the pages. 

“13. If a crystal ball could tell you the truth about yourself, your life, the future or anything else, what would you want to know?” Billy exhaled deeply. Even when he wasn’t smoking, his breath made little clouds in the freezing air.

“Hmm, well I already know the truth about myself, which is that I’m hot stuff,” Billy stated suavely. Steve chuckled.

“Sure.” 

“I don’t really care for the future…” Billy was lost in thought for a second, tongue pressed against the back of his teeth.

“I think I’d want to know the truth about my parents and what their relationship was like. I wanna know if my mom is as bad as my dad says she is. And I already know_ he’s_ a piece of shit, so...” There was a moment of silence before Billy gestured at Steve with his cigarette. “Your turn.” 

“Erm- man, I don’t know if I’d want to know anything. Certainly not about myself.” He hummed. “Maybe I’d want to know about the future? Just where I’m gonna be at in five or ten years' time.” Billy nodded, eyes following the rhythmic movements of their feet next to each other, right-left left-right right-left left-right, as they paced through the snow. 

“What do you hope to see?”

“Erm- Just the basic stuff I think. I hope I have a good job, a house, a wife, maybe some kids depending on how far in the future we go.” If Steve had been looking at Billy instead of the road ahead of them, he might have seen Billy’s eyebrows jump at the mention of a ‘wife’. But he didn’t look.

“I think I just hope that I’m happy.” He finished. Billy worked his jaw.

“Yeah, makes sense.” He opened his hand for Steve to hand him the questions, which the boy gladly did. Billy straightened them out. The snowflakes that fell from above stuck to the pages, slowly melting and bleeding out the ink as Billy read out the next question.

“14. Is there something that you’ve dreamed of doing for a long time? Why haven’t you done it?” He folded the pages and tucked them underneath his coat to prevent them from getting wetter than they already were. Steve sighed deeply.

“I don’t know. I don’t think I have any big dreams, to be honest.” He thought back to his dinner table, where he had read this question to himself, mere hours ago. But of course, he couldn’t tell Billy how he'd answered it back then.  
“I think I want to live in a big city again.” He decided. “I want to know what that life is like, as an adult.” He looked over at Billy. The guy blew out a big cloud of smoke and said: 

“I’d go back to Cali. And why I haven't is simple: I don’t have the money right now.” Billy’s mentioning of his home state reminded Steve of a question that had been circling his mind since the moment he heard Billy’s name on the campus.

“You know I’ve been wondering why you didn’t enroll for a college in Cali. Why the hell would you want to go to Bloomington?” 

“They accepted me." Billy shrugged. "They wanted me to play.”

“And Cali didn’t?” Steve raised a brow. Billy hummed and shook his head. His lips were painted with the knowing smile of an adult when a child tells them that they want to be a dinosaur when they grow up.

“You might think I’m a big fish, but I’m barely a cod in California waters. So yeah, Bloomington was the one that let me in on a scholarship.”

They traded the list back. There was something comforting about talking while strolling through the snow. Even if the cold felt like needles against Steve's skin and he was losing the sense in his fingers, he liked the momentum.

“15. What is the greatest accomplishment of your life?”

“Getting into college,” Billy answered instantly. “Or I guess if you want to dissect that: recovering well enough to get a scholarship.” He mulled on his lip. “Plenty of people didn’t think I was ever going to play any sport again, let alone play for a school.” The muscles in his face were relaxing. His eyes grew distant again.

Billy had definitely been scarred by the Mind Flayer, in more than one way. No one denied Billy's change before his ‘mall fire accident’ and after. He became more reclusive. Tended to focus his energies on school and training. He appeared to have lost all interest in dominating the school. Not that it seemed to affect his position on the social hierarchy in any way. After working himself back up as one of their team’s star players, he was praised and envied by the other players, but Billy himself seemed more interested in the approval of College scouts. Girls were still pining after him, but he made little effort to cash in on that interest. 

Before his accident, Billy was cool because he didn’t care about anything. He came back caring more than he was willing to admit, just not about anything other teens seemed to concern themselves with, which had a different but undeniable appeal.

“My dad was a great sport during that time, you know?” Billy’s tone shifted when he mentioned his father. "He was really supportive of me while I was going through therapy. Really proud to see me working that hard.” His eyes had glossed over. Something about his voice sounded strained. “He said: you have to use this to your advantage! This is your story! This is how you’re going to sell yourself to these schools. You had this horrible accident, trying to save some kids from a fire in the mall, which almost cost you your life. But then, against all the odds, you came back. Not because of luck, not because of faith, but because of hard work. _ That’s _the story of a true American Hero.” His lips were painted with something that was not quite a smile, but also not too far away from it.

Steve had seen the two of them on their morning runs across town. Since Billy's car was wrecked, the boy ran to school, took a shower in the gymnasium before heading to his first class. Steve's street just so happened to be on their route. They usually passed his house around the time that Steve would get out of bed. It was another one of those strangely intimate moments, to see Billy jogging alongside his father. To see him out when the rest of the sleepy town was barely waking up, his eyes focused on nothing but the road ahead of him. 

One time they stopped at Steve's drive way to catch their breath. They appeared to exchange a few words, taking sips from their water bottles. Then Billy lifted his shirt to wipe the sweat off his forehead with the hem of the shirt. That's the first time Steve saw the scars. He'd covered his mouth with his hand to hold back a gasp. More than anything he just hadn't seen it coming.

Two years down, Steve would never have had the same reaction. He'd gotten used to them of course, but the scars also looked a lot better then they did back then. Billy's flanks were the most tattered of all. In the early light of the morning, it looked like he barely had any healthy skin left on his sides. Some parts had clearly been operated on with skin transplants. Others had been stitched up the best they could.

As if the boy had a sixth sense for voyeurists, he glanced up at Steve’s bedroom window. Steve had ducked, heart jumping out of his throat. If Billy had seen him that morning or even knew that it had been Steve’s house, he’d never mentioned it to him.

“So that’s me. What about you, pretty boy?” Billy took another drag. The list of things Steve had accomplished in his life appeared to him like a rather short one.  
“Erm- Honestly, I’m gonna say college as well. No one really expected me to get into a college, yet- here I am I guess.” He swallowed. “I don’t know how much of it is my accomplishment exactly since Robin wrote my essay for me-”

“Hold up- of course, it’s your accomplishment.” Billy’s brows knitted in a frown. “Maybe she helped you get in, but everything after that is 100% you.” Steve's face screwed up in a wry grimace.

“So I guess I can’t put it on her that I literally haven’t passed a single class this year.”

Billy stopped walking. Steve had halted his strides as well. There was a brief silence, a soft pause that Billy clearly didn't know what to do with

“That really sucks,” He said quietly. Steve veined a smile, a poor attempt to temper Billy’s pity. 

“It is how it is, you know?”

“You know, you can take them again next year.” Billy tried. Steve kicked the snow up.

“I don’t see the point.” He huffed, rather spiteful. “I hate it. I suck at school. I’m just too stupid for all of this, so I’ll just fuck off, back to Hawkins at rent out VHS with _ Keith- _ ”

“Ay!” Steve’s head shot up, stunned by the sudden sharpness of Billy’s tone. Upon looking he found that the boy’s brow had lowered even further.  
“You shouldn’t talk about yourself that way,” Billy said, somehow both strict and gentle at the same time. Now was Steve’s turn to wrinkle his face up in a frown.

“Dude, it’s _fine_,” He spoke with a small throw of his hand. “I’m not a brainiac. I know it. There’s no point denying-“ Steve stopped when Billy kept shaking his head.

“That’s book smarts. There are other smarts, too.”

Steve blinked. It's not like he wasn't used to Billy talking firmly to him. It was just that he couldn't remember a time when Billy said something actually _nice_ to him. He'd had plenty of flattery, plenty of sweet nothings whispered in his ear at parties, imploring him to follow the guy upstairs, but Billy had never complimented him or been nice to him without expecting a pay off within the next 30 minutes. But as of now... he actually seemed to care. He _actually_ seemed bothered by Steve putting himself down. 

“If I’d believed those people who said I’d never run again, what would have been of me? Hm? I certainly wouldn’t be here. That’s what my coach kept saying when I was rehabilitating: your biggest enemy is yourself. That little voice in your head that says that you can’t do it.” Steve was only half listening.

“But the grades prove-“ He tried, but Billy interjected.

“The grades prove that you’re not passionate about what you’re doing. They don’t say that you’re not a smart guy.” Steve's mouth seemed to have run out of words. The last person who called him smart was probably Mama Selma and she'd mostly said it as a warning, as a way to keep him in line: ‘you’re a smart kid. Don’t get into that kinda shenanigans!’

“You’re in business school right?” Billy asked. Steve nodded, tongue between his molars.  
“Well, pick something else. Something you actually like.” Billy started walking again. Steve followed in his trail. He blinked against the snowflakes that blew into his face.

“How do you even _know_ what you like?” He asked, rather frustrated. “How did you decide on your major- what do you even do?” Billy paused to look over his shoulder.

“You don't know my major?” He asked, not quite offended but also not not offended. Steve felt a bit of shame rise to his face. Had Billy told him but had he forgotten?

“I don’t think we ever talked about it.” He said tentatively.

“I still know yours,” Billy replied. That was true. How _did _he know? An amused smile grew onto Billy’s lips.

“Physics.” He said, turned around and continued walking. 

** [ Human - Dodie ft Jon Cozart](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PXQiMXgTXyQ) **

Steve's face screwed up. _ Physics?_ Out of all things?

Billy had always been an athletic type, the kind of guy that rather talks with his hands than with words. So to find out that Billy Hargrove was a _nerd_ was like discovering a new color.  
It took Steve a few seconds to realize that he was lagging behind and to start jogging after Billy. He caught up panting lightly. his breath hit the air in curt little clouds. 

“Okay, hold up-” he panted. “Since when are you into physics?” Billy shrugged.

“I just like it. I like that there are... rules to how things work and that we can understand and predict them. ‘S like little puzzles.” 

“Okay, so- explain the Einstein thing to me.” Billy looked at Steve with a ridiculous grin. 

“Einstein’s _ thing _?” He laughed incredulously. “He had more than_ one thing_.” Never had Billy’s smile been so infectious. 

“Fine,” The grin was audible in Steve's voice. “Pick one. Explain like I’m five.” Billy’s lips puckered, letting out a soft hum.

“Erm- does 'relativity' ring a bell?” He said after a few beats of silence.

“That’s that something can be different for different people, right?”

“Yes, sort of. So speed is one of those things. Have you ever sat on a train and there was another train next to you at the station? And you see from the window that one of the trains is moving, but you don’t know which one.” Steve stared at Billy with cow eyes.

“But- you can feel it if the train starts moving.” He frowned. Billy had a feeling that this metaphor wasn’t going to work for Steve, so he tried something else.

“Okay, different example- erm. The earth also moves. Agreed?” Billy dropped his cigarette and stomped it out in the snow.

“Yes,” Steve affirmed with a confident smile.

“But we don’t _feel_ it move.” Billy continued. Steve thought for a second, his eyes turned skyward. 

“Yes,” He concluded.

“What if I told you..” Billy used the tip of his shoe to make the print of his heel into a circle.  
“That we are currently moving around the earth’s axis at over one thousand miles an hour.” Billy looked up with a marvellous smile.

“No way,” Steve said softly, a smile growing on his face.

“That’s faster than the fastest car.”

“Five times as fast.” Billy corrected. “That’s 1500 feet a second or- like three times the Washington monument. In one single second. And we don’t feel a thing. It gets weirder.” He stomped another, larger mark in the snow and drew an oval from the smaller circle around the bigger one.

“The earth doesn’t just move around its axis. It also goes around the sun. And we do so at roughly 19 miles _a second_. But-” He drew another line through the bigger circle. At this point, he had to skip on one leg to make this circle big enough. “But the sun isn’t set in its place either. That, in turn, spins around other stars in the milky way, which spins around another axis, which-” It was only a matter of time before he would trip and fall. Thankfully for him, Steve right behind to catch him and hoist him back on his feet. 

[stones around the sun - Lewis Watson](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R2nZnSot-is)

“Everything is spinning.” Steve laughed. He wasn’t just talking about the universe.   
“Everything is spinning!” Billy repeated, practically breathing the words into Steve’s mouth. He smelled like cigarettes and wool and something else, something that was just uniquely him. 

“And- we don’t feel any of that, because- the atmosphere is also spinning at the same speed as we are so it all cancels each other out.” Billy panted, his eyes still shining with childlike wonder. “But like- because everything is moving around each other, we are actually... never at the exact same place in the universe, relative to everything else. So- we might _feel _like we’re standing still right now...” he paused to catch his breath, all the while not letting his gaze wander from Steve’s eyes. Steve nodded, barely listening at this point.

“But if we look at the bigger picture… every second is unexplored territory.”

Steve remembered how that same morning, Billy had told him that even if the world stopped turning, it couldn’t affect the flow of time. Then how was it possible that in this moment, when he was so acutely aware of how he was hurled around through space that time seemed to be standing still. And how relative to the noise in the distance, the space around them was so impossibly quiet. And how relative to the air around them, Billy was warm. And how relative to every other star in the galaxy, the ones in Billy's eyes were his favorite.

“I think I get it,” Steve whispered, his face not inches away from Billy’s. 

//

The bell rang.

“Oh- THANK GOD!” Robin shouted and jumped out of her seat. Steve frowned, leaning over to watch Robin disappear into the hallway. 

“Hey- it’s not that bad!” He called

Robin opened the door to find Amber on the other side. The girls greeted each other with a kiss, exchanging a few words that Steve couldn't make out.

“Hey Amb,” he said as she wandered into the living room, Robin in tow. Amber greeted him absentmindedly, eyes darting around the room while she took off her scarf.

“Hey, I was just dropping by. I think I left my notes here yesterday, do you guys know where they might be?” Robin started laughing.

“Steve, honey.” She crooked her head to the side, arms folded in front of her chest, a smile sweet like Gatorade. “Do you want to tell Amber where her experiment has gone?” Steve rolled his eyes indignantly and nodded towards his backpack.

“It’s in my bag.” He grumbled as he hid his face behind his glass as he took another sip from his water. The headache had suddenly returned. Go figure.

Amber’s eyes narrowed. “And whyy should it be there?” Steve rolled his head back, hands cupped tightly over his scrunched up face.

“BecauseIhadadumbideaandImadeBillyHargrovedotheexperimentwithmebutitallwenthorriblywrongsoIgotwhatIdeservecanwepleasenotdwellonit.” Amber blinked owlishly.

“Okay, I understood virtually none of- how_ever _ many sentences that were, but I caught the name Hargrove and now I’m intrigued.” 

So Steve bit the bullet and summarized the situation, this time at a speed that was comprehensible to the average man (or woman). 

“...so I laid it out for him and he wasn’t a fan at first, but then - for_ some_ reason - he agreed.” Steve finished his eyes anywhere but on Amber. The girl nodded carefully, opening her mouth without allowing any words to come out just yet.

“Okay...” She spoke. “And I’m guessing from your… disheartened composure that things didn’t quite go according to plan?” ‘Disheartened?’ Steve winced. Did he really look that pressed? 

“Well, no. ‘Not quite’, you might say,” Steve grumbled. Robin leaned closer to Amber.

“You saved me just then. Just when you walked in, Steve was about to tell me in gross detail how they were about to suck face.” Amber’s face lit up like Mrs Wheeler’s house when Will went missing.

“You guys _ kissed!?_” She squealed. Steve could barely get a word in without Robin talking over him.

“They’ve been hooking up since September! That's not some big milestone!” 

“Hmmm, but I bet this time was different,” Amber teased, wiggling her eyebrows at Robin, who made a gagging noise.

“If you guys are done theorizing I could just tell you what actually happened?” Steve proposed.

// 

Steve felt his heart pounce in his throat, not knowing at which of Billy’s eyes to look. They were impossibly dark in the dim light of the campus grounds. A few lost snowflakes had gotten stuck to the boy's lashes.

‘You can kiss me,’ Steve thought. ‘You’re allowed to kiss me. If you kiss me, right now I will kiss you back _ so hard_.’

His eyes wandered down. Over Billy’s flushed cheeks, his dimples, his red lips that hung open ever so slightly. They stayed like that for a few seconds that felt like infinities, breathing in the clouds of each other's breath. Then Billy glanced away.

“We’re here, by the way.” Steve looked in the direction Billy had pointed. Roughly 30 feet down, the pavement ended at the porch of a large, ornately designed building. 

“Oh.” He tried his best to swallow his disappointment. Whatever magic he'd felt was blown away with the wind.

“Let’s get out of here before we freeze,” Billy said and picked up his pace again.

“Yeah,” Steve muttered, following suit. “Let’s.”

The Fraternity house appeared to Steve as the architectural equivalent of an African elephant: large, tan, awe-inspiring and probably unethically sourced. ‘They don’t make a lot of buildings like these anymore,’ Steve caught himself thinking as he stared up at the decoratively sculpted facade, the pattern of the bricks, the overall emittance of fortitude. 

The decor inside was equally impressive. It could be simply described as brown and lush. The furniture all seemed to be made of the same dark oak wood, clad in one of two shades of green: Irish forest or dried grass. There were actual paintings on the walls. Paintings of academic Illumina and other great minds, hidden behind faces Steve didn't recognize. The space overall emitted an atmosphere of prestige and elitism that gave even a posh boy like Steve an imposter syndrome. It was quite surprising, therefore, to find Billy smiling as if he was right at home. 

“Impressive, huh?” He grinned while he took his hat off. Steve nodded without uttering a word. His eyes glided down the carved wood around the door frames. 

“‘S quite something,” The strangest thing wasn’t even the lavish style of the mansion. It was how insidiously quiet everything was. The silence gave the space the unnerving look and feel of a haunted house, only before the decay had settled in. The only sounds he heard were his own shoes, squeaking on the tiled floor and Billy coat zipper becoming undone. They were completely alone in this enormous house.

“Want a drink?” Billy had been watching Steve closely as he took the whole thing in. He finally met Billy's eyes. 

“Yeah, sure.”

Billy led him down to the kitchen (or one of the two, as he would later explain).  
“So this is where you lived during freshmen year?” Steve asked, eyeing the baroque wallpaper as they passed through the hallway. 

“Yup,” Billy replied. “Quite an incredible time. I mean-” He twirled around, arms gesturing at the space around them. “Imagine moving from Cherry Road to this place.” His grin was wide enough to split his face. “Felt like a king.” 

The kitchen was not much larger than the average American home. What made it stand out, however, was the immense accumulation of beer bottles. This could not be stressed enough. Every surface, every counter, was covered. Billy clenched his teeth when he saw the look on Steve’s face.

“It’s not usually this bad,” He smiled sheepishly. “But it usually is before a football game.” He tried to shrug it off and opened the fridge. 

"Yeah, about that-" Steve said while Billy rumbled through the fridge. "Does _everyone_ here just leave for the game? Even when it's absolutely freezing out?"

"Yeah, pretty much," Billy answered from behind the door. There was a tinkling of items being moved around. "A handful of the guys who live here are on the team, so it's kind of seen as a gesture of brotherhood that we all go and cheer them on. What'd you like to drink?" 

Steve hid his hands in his jean pockets, eyes skipping over the accumulation of beer bottles.

“I think I might switch to a soda.” Just looking at all that alcohol made Steve feel a second-hand hangover creeping in. Billy hummed, tapped the rim of the door and slammed it shut.

“I’ve got a better idea,” he said and gestured for Steve to follow him. So far, Steve had mixed feelings about the ideas Billy was presenting. 

Billy led him into a new room, in which the chairs were furnished with what looked like Bordeaux colored suede. There was a fireplace with a mantelpiece that stretched out across the entire back wall. Against the ejected wall stood a large china cabinet, only the shelves weren’t filled with plates and teacups, but rather expensive looking bottles of liquor. 

Billy walked straight up to the mantelpiece, picked up the bust of someone who had probably either been a president or a war hero and shook it until something small and shiny fell into his hand. He grinned and held a small copper key up for Steve to see. 

“Are we allowed to do this?” Steve asked while Billy walked up to the cabinet. 

“Hmm, _allowed_ not exactly, but-” He glanced over his shoulder and winked. “I won’t tell anybody if you won’t.” The boy reached up to pluck a bottle of what looked like whiskey from the top shelf. There was something about the sight of Billy pushing himself up on tippy-toes, how his shirt hiked up and showed the dimples of his lower back that did strange things to Steve’s belly. He bit his lip to swallow the feeling down.

“Still, they’re gonna find out if we drink it, right?” Billy wandered over to Steve, studying the label. 

“We just put tea in it and no one will notice until they try to drink it, but these rarely get touched.” He glanced up, a wicked smile teasing his lips. “So by the time anyone finds out, they won’t know who to point to.” He unscrewed the cap and sniffed. His eyes widened, blinked while he let out a soft ‘woof’. He held the bottle under Steve’s nose. A strong scent crawled up Steve’s nostrils, somehow both smokey and sweet at the same time.

“What is that?” Steve asked when he pulled back.

“Bourbon,” Billy answered and looked up from the bottle. “Sound good?”

“I mean... sure.” Steve had never had bourbon before. He knew his dad wasn’t a fan. He claimed that it was ‘whiskey for women’. 

“How about you ask me the next question,” Billy said while he pulled two broad, flat glasses out of the cabinet. Oh, of course! Steve had been so preoccupied taking in the space around him that he’d completely forgotten why they came here in the first place. He pulled the questions out to see where they had left. 

“Oh, it’s your turn, actually,” he said and held the papers out for Billy. The boy put the glasses down on the table and read from Steve’s hand.

“16. What do you value most in a friendship?” Steve puckered his lips, flipping the pages back around. 

“I think humor. It’s important that you can vibe with someone. But they also need to have your back. I think the best friends are those who are not afraid to tell you what you don’t want to hear. They’ll straight up tell you that something is a stupid idea or that you’re wrong about something.”

“I bet you can use that.” Billy teased while he poured the glasses, but Steve grinned.

“Oh trust me, all the time.” Steve followed Billy’s movements as the liquid climbed up halfway into the stout glasses. He was pretty sure that was way more than you were supposed to put in, especially if you didn’t have any ice, but he decided to let it slide. 

“So honesty then,” Billy said and handed Steve his whiskey. “I dig that. I once read that a friend is someone who will defend you when you are not present to defend yourself. I think that about sums it up.” Steve took a small sip from the drink. He’d stolen some of his father’s scotch before and hated it, but this experience was somehow different. It left the same burn in his throat, but the flavor was earthier. Almost as if there were actual wood in the drink. It was also tasted a little sweeter, which made it go down just that little bit more easily. 

The boys sat down, each in one of the deep red armchairs. It was the kind of chair that you sank into, that ended up hugging you from every side. Steve reached to put his glass down on the armrest but quickly decided that this furniture was way too expensive to risk creating a stain. He bent over to place his glass on the salon table before read out the next question.

“17. What is your most treasured memory?” That was a sweet one. 

“Erm… being on the beach with my mom, surfing. I just remember being very content. Like- I didn't want anything more.”

“My most treasured memory… I think was the road trip I took with Nancy over winter break. We went up to my uncle’s cabin in like- the woods upstate. And pretty much everything went wrong. We got completely lost on the way there. Arrived way after dark. Then it turned out that the boiler pipes were frozen and we couldn’t heat the place, so the temperature was apocalyptic. And somehow we burned our food or it was spoiled- I don’t remember, but we had _so much fun_. We did not stop laughing. And because it was so cold, we just snuggled together under three blankets. We didn’t even have sex I think. It was too cold to take our clothes off but I was just really happy to be there with her.” Billy watched Steve rattle on about the disaster trip with an amused smile.

“That’s really sweet.” He said and glanced at his drink. “Sounds like you really loved her.” Steve chewed his lip, his face slack.

“Yeah, I did. But you know- all things come to an end.” He pushed the questions in Billy’s direction.

“18. What is your most terrible memory?”

Steve hummed, eyebrows knit together in thought. It wasn't all that hard to find his worst memory, but- He didn't know if it was something that he felt ready to share with Billy - or anyone for that matter.

Steve didn't consider himself a private person. He didn't shy away from any topic, but he had found ways of twisting conversations or half answering a question. Most of the time he didn't even catch himself doing it. It just came so naturally to him.   
There were definitely things he'd never talked about with another living soul. Things he'd rather keep to himself. This had always been easy because people rarely asked him about the hard-hitting stuff. They never asked him about his worst moments, maybe because they simply assumed he wouldn't have any. Being the son of the Vice President of America's biggest kitchen aid company, growing up in a house with four bathrooms and a pool, a BMW in his garage, how big could his problems really be?

He thought about doors and leaving them closed. About how easy it would be to open another drawer and pull something out that Billy already knew, like Nancy breaking up with him or the demodog invasion, the Russian torture chamber. He had plenty legitimately terrible memories to pick from. Billy would probably believe him if he claimed it was his worst.

But it hadn't it been him who said that honesty was the first condition if they were going to do this? So far Billy seemed to have held his end of the bargain. Didn't Steve owe it to him to do the same?

"Okay, erm-" Steve stopped to think how he wanted to tell this story. Although there were parts that he'd rather leave out, he feared that there was only one way for things to make sense, which was to tell it from start to finish.

"My worst memory was... a little over two years ago at this point. I was having a bit of a hard time after the whole... Battle of Starcourt situation, as the kids call it." He swallowed. "It was just... this was the third time we all got dragged into some conspiracy nightmare. Everyone was on edge. And for nights on end, I had these... nightmares. Sometimes they were about the Meat Monster, my friends or my parents getting flayed and attacking me. Sometimes the demodogs were back. But most nights I had this fucked up dream where... I was back with the Russians. And they were still hitting me and asking me who I worked for. And it just seemed to go on for hours and hours. It felt so real. I could actually _feel_ the pain. And I kept having those dreams to the point where when I was awake I started to wonder- what if I'm dreaming _right now_. What if _this_ is the dream and I'm actually still in that chamber, unable to get out." Steve shook his head lightly. "I mean- it was absolutely insane."

"And I kept telling myself: 'It's all in your head. You're fine. It can't actually hurt you if it's in your head.' But after a week or three... I don't know. It starts to fuck with you a little bit."

"I started to do everything to stay awake. Drank like- eight to ten cups of coffee a day. It was absolute madness. It's a miracle that I didn't die by a heart attack, honestly. I was... I was just- terrified to go to sleep. I would keep myself up until the early hours of the morning and of course, this only made the nightmares worse. Because even if I realized that I was dreaming or I _thought_ that I might be dreaming, I couldn't wake myself up. This one time I actually did and... I think I got- what's it called? Sleep paralysis? I was awake but I couldn't move and I couldn't open my eyes and I thought- shit, I'm in the Upside Down. I- somehow I got stuck in the Upside Down and I can't move and I'm going to get _eaten_ by some monster and no one will know where I went-" Steve tried to ignore the tightness in his chest. He tried breathing through his nose, but the feeling of a Demodog sitting on his chest wouldn't go away.

"I tried to be there for everyone but-" His words got caught in his throat while tears rose to his eyes. "There was- _so. much.-_ _pain_. _All_ around me. _Everyone_ was hurting. That was maybe the worst part. I knew that other people had it far worse than me. Like El just lost her dad and we didn't know if _you_ were gonna make it out alive. And meanwhile, the newspapers were saying that Hawkins was a Hell Town, that it was built on the ground where the Devil fell and- I started to believe it. I was getting really paranoid. And it really didn't help that I lost my job as well, because I just sat at home all day, panicking because I was amped up on caffeine-" He huffed out a frustrated sigh. "And I was getting high all the time which- looking back was _so_ stupid. I think I was hoping it would calm me down, which-" He barked out a dry laugh. "**Of course** it **didn't**! At that point, I might have been hallucinating. It was hard to tell whether I was ever truly awake at all." Steve paused, staring at the carpet. 

"And... I didn't see a way out. There was no way I was getting into any colleges. I was _trapped._ I was trapped in this hell hole where I was doomed to face my worst nightmares, whether I was awake or dreaming and-" A fat tear rolled down his cheek. 

"Sorry," he whispered, angrily rubbing it off his cheek.

"It's okay," Billy said quietly. He'd been listening in solemn silence while Steve had been recounting. 

"I just-" Steve sighed. He finally met Billy's sad eyes. "I was so tired. And I couldn't do it anymore. I didn't-" He clenched his jaw.

"I, eh... I ended up taking a bunch of my mom's sleeping pills. I just took them all." He took a sharp breath. "And I probably would have died if she didn't walk in on me doing it. She made me throw everything back up- you don't want to know how..." 

"Then she sat me down. And she told me what would have happened if she didn't catch me in time.  
That my kidneys would have failed... and that I would have died slowly over the course of a few weeks." He glanced up with the devasted parody of a smile etched across his face. "And then that was it!" He wheezed, eyes spilling over with tears. "She didn't bother to take me to a doctor, to see if I was okay! She didn't even ask _WHY__!_ I don't even think she told my da-" He bit down on his thumb, choking back the tears. Billy put a hand on Steve's knee. It was awkward and unexpected, but it nice of him to do anything at all. 

"I don't know why I'm so upset about that. It's not like I could have told her what was actually going on-"

"No..." Billy's eyes were so incredibly tender. "She should have asked. She should have known that there was more going on. She should have noticed." Steve's face crumbled. He could feel himself collapsing in on himself. He had to flex every muscle in his body to keep the pillars up and keep the dam from breaking. Billy let himself slide off his chair onto the carpet and gently tugged Steve's arm, urging him to do the same.

"I know we don't normally do this, but you need a hug."

Those words were all that Steve needed to hear to open all the faucets. It was as if at once all his seems were bursting and all his stitches became undone. Billy pulled the boy into his chest and he just _cried_.  
He cried because his mother didn't care enough to notice when he was in pain. He cried because he always had to carry everyone else. He cried because it never felt finished. Because he still had a knife under his pillow and a bat in his closet. Because the nightmares wouldn't stop.

They had never stopped. They had only become less frequent. Sometimes he resented Amber and her stupid roommate because when she slept over, it meant that Steve had to stay in his own bed after an episode instead of curl up beside Robin.

He cried because he felt stupid a lot of the time. He cried because he didn't know what he was going to do when he was inevitably dropping out of college. He cried because everything was so damn complicated and he was tired of pretending that he was just messy when really, he was a mess. A proper mess that was tangled in all the wrong places. A mess that should have been taken care of a long time ago. 

And Billy held him. He swallowed thickly and rubbed Steve's back and asked himself what the hell he thought he was doing. He didn't know what he was doing. Fuck, what had he gotten himself into? He wasn't the right person for this. Shit. Shit. _Shit._

He wanted to say something, but he didn't know what Steve would need to hear. A mass seemed to be growing in his throat. He didn't know what to say to someone who was hurting. So since he couldn't say the right thing, he decided just to say something that was true.

"I know how you feel." He whispered hoarsely. "Not just with your mom. I know what it's like to want to give up. And it sucks." Steve was finally starting to wear himself out. Once his breathing evened out he felt the way grass smells after the rain: refreshed and heavy at the same time. God, he really needed this, didn't he? It felt nice to lean on Billy, feel firm muscles under his head, a heavy arm around his shoulders. To be carried, even if it's just for a minute.

"I didn't even want to die." he slurred. "I just wanted to stop being for a while." Billy snorted. 

"God, can I relate to that." 

Steve sat up an wiped his hands across his cheeks. "Uughhh, sorry. I don't know what all that was about." Billy offered him a soft smile. 

"s' okay." He insisted, closely following Steve's movements. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't quite mask the anxiety jittering behind his eyes. Seeing happy, bubbly Steve break down like that, he felt this overwhelming urge to protect but was at the same time terrified to do anything at all. If he'd learned anything, it was that nothing ever grew out of his hands. They were made for rough handling, for harsh grips and shattering punches. Holding Steve as he cried had felt like polishing a wine glass with a scourer. As if one wrong movement would break him or leave him with a nasty scar.

"I should have just lied and told you about the Russians again." Steve wiped his nose with the back of his hand. Billy snorted.

"Glad you didn't, though." They sat shoulder to shoulder, backs rested against Billy's chair, legs outstretched in front of each other. Billy bumped his toes against Steve's, who smiled wetly and bumped back. 

"Do you want a drink?" Billy offered.

"Erm- I should probably lay off the booze." Steve sighed. God, why did crying always make him so tired?

"Sure. Anything else?"

"Eh- some water would be nice." Billy nodded and pulled himself up. He muttered a soft 'be right back', before wandering off in the direction of the kitchen. Steve immediately felt a cold absence where Billy's body had been. Even though those chairs felt like a hug, there was nothing quite like the warmth of another person.

Left alone in the room, the mortification started to settle in, biting its way deep into his bones. God, he'd really been snotting all over Billy Hargrove's shirt, hadn't he? The strangest thing was that Billy seemed so okay with it. Back home, he would have kicked Steve into a ditch for doing so much as breathe on him. Hell, this very morning he had cussed Steve out for daring to put his head on the same pillow as him. And now he was hugging him and getting him glasses of water. 

Steve wondered if he should bring up what happened that morning or more so, what happened the night before. Sometimes it felt like there were 13 different Billy's and Steve never knew which one he was getting. He didn't have a lot of time for contemplation before Billy returned with a tall glass in his hand. 

"One water, coming up." He said as he handed the drink over to Steve and sat down next to him. Steve thanked him and took a few sips. His face crossed with embarrassment. His eyes screwed shut.

"I'm so sorry... You shouldn't have had to see that." Billy snickered.

"Honestly- forget about it. We're fine." Steve opened one eye to see if Billy was joking. The boy's face was soft.  
"I take it not many people know that story..." Steve shook his head.

"Just you, me and my mom," He said. A smirk crossed Billy's face.

"Me, you and your mom? That sounds like a fun night." He waggled his eyebrows, running his tongue over his teeth. Steve has so taken off guard by the comment that he choked, snorted and propelled out a large chunk of snot over himself. Billy lost it completely. He fell on his side onto the carpet clutching his belly while Steve stared appalled at the amount of gunk that came out of his face. It was slimy and yellow and all over his hands and- oh god, he'd even managed to get some on the carpet. 

"I get it! Very funny!" He shouted at Billy who was still crying out with laughter, struggling to regain his breath. But Steve himself couldn't let the ridiculousness of the situation get lost on him. Slowly, he began to chuckle at his own gross bugger.

"Aw man- do you have some tissue around here?"

"It's a house full of horny jocks." Billy chuckled. "What do you think?" He pointed towards the mantelpiece.   
"I think I saw a box up there."

And like that, the conversation had made a complete 180. Somehow Billy had managed to get him from weeping to howling with laughter in a matter of seconds.

By the time Steve had himself cleaned up, Billy had managed to pull himself together again. 

"Is this okay for you, by the way? We can just go sit in the chairs again." Steve asked when he sat back next to Billy on the carpet. It was a little cramped. Billy had ended up with his legs wrapped around the table leg.

"No, I don't mind. Kinda cozy down here." He glanced at Steve. "Unless you want to get up." But Steve shook his head.

"Nah, I'm good." If anything, he had hoped Billy wouldn't mind staying a little longer. He kinda liked having him this close. Billy glanced down, fumbling with his hands.

"I struggled too, ya know. When I just woke up. Been told that I pulled my IV's out a few times. After a while they had me chained to the bed." It took Steve a moment to remember what they had been talking about before he understood what Billy meant.

"Wow," Steve whispered when the implications of Billy's words finally sank in.

"Just- had all this guilt. Of everything I'd done while that thing was inside of me. Also, things he'd done before that." He glanced over at Steve. It didn't need to be said out loud. They both knew what he meant. It was odd, sitting so close to each other. Rubbing shoulders as they were, they were practically breathing in each other's words. 

"It took a lot of talking to get me to see the point again." There was a drawn silence before Steve finally dared to ask the question that had been spinning in his mind like a broken record.

"So what's the point?" Billy smiled weakly. 

"I talked to that guy- Doctor Owens. We had a few sessions. For some reason he seemed really insistent that I kept on living - possibly because he had already put a lot of effort into keeping my body alive, anyhow- I told him that I didn't see the point in going on. That I'd deserved to die. That everyone had already given up on me. And he said: 'okay, so you've already let everyone down. Everybody hates you. You can't do anything to redeem yourself in their eyes.'" Billy paused, then turned his head to Steve.

"That means that you don't have anything to live up to anymore. You've given up already, so now you can just- live for the sake of it." He paused, tilting his head to the side.   
"I didn't know at first what that meant, but I think I do now." He shrugged. "I just have to try my best. And that's all I have to give. If it's not enough, then that's not my problem. They can't ask anything more from me." Steve nodded.

"So was that your worst memory, then? Waking up from the coma?" Billy bit his lip, eyes becoming unfocused. 

“No... No, I thought about that while I was in the kitchen, but I don't think I have an answer to this question. Or I don't want to answer it.” Steve was keen to agree and move on but surprised to find that Billy wanted to elaborate on the choice.  
“I just don’t see the point in examining my life on when I felt the worst. Like- dying was bad. Being possessed was- _an experience_, to put it mildly. Being separated from my mom sucked. It’s just- it all sucked in different ways and I don’t think bad things deserve a trophy for being the worst.” Steve opened his mouth to say something but closed it again. In a way, he thought, Billy was right. There wasn’t really a point in sulking over the ways in which we were wronged, not in the way that the question asked them to anyway.

“I’ll take it.” He nodded. “Very… thought-provoking answer.” 

"You want to move on?" Steve nodded and took the list as Billy handed it to him.

“19. If you knew that in one year you would die suddenly, would you change anything about the way you are now living? Why?” Steve let out a dry chuckle. "Great! A question about death, just what we need."

"Do you want to skip?" Billy offered. Steve pulled a face.

"Nah. It's fine. What's your answer?" Billy blew a raspberry. 

“Hm... I don’t think I’d change anything.” He seemed surprised at his own answer.  
“Like- no. No, I think I’d just carry on as I do right now. I think I’m good.” 

“Don’t you have something big you still want to do?” Steve's face was riddled with confusion. It couldn't possibly be that Billy would stay in school, carry on as if nothing changed. Billy took a moment to think but soon answered:

“No, I’m pretty happy here. I’m studying something I like. I have my brothers. I have the team. I have no reason to be anywhere else. Like I said: I'm living my life for myself these days so I think I'm good. What would you change?” Steve did not seem to need a second to think. Billy had barely finished the question before he was already creating a list.

“Okay, first of all, I would drop out of college. Because why waste any more time on a degree that I’m not even gonna finish, let alone _use_. I think... see as many movies as I can. One thing I will say for working at the video store is that it really got me into movies. I still have a whole list of ones that I want to see. I would… travel. Maybe live in a different country for a while. Maybe I would hire a prostitute, just to see what that's like.” Billy laughed until his grin shrunk back into a fond smile.   
“I mean-” Steve waved his hand, face painted in disbelief. “You _have to_ have _something_ you still want to do. Like- what about Cali? Wouldn't you want to go see your mom?” Billy’s smile faded until his mouth disappeared into a thin line.

“Maybe." He murmured. "Not sure.”

Billy had spent most of his childhood and teen years yearning for his mother. The first few months, it was fresh, so so incredibly fresh. He spent nights in this unfamiliar bed trying not to cry too loudly. When footsteps came down the hall, a little voice in his head kept whispering that it might be his mother. That she’d tell him that it was over and that she would take him back again, that the heavy footsteps didn't belong to the man who called himself his father who would yank his door open and tell him to suck it up already and go to sleep.

Billy was 13 by the time he realized that he didn’t remember the way her voice sounded. He could vaguely recall a few words. Like how she called his name. He could envision her, talking animatedly to a neighbor while he was playing with his toy tractor, but the memories we becoming hazy, like ink decaying on old newspapers. There was nothing he could do to keep her image from fading.

Maybe grief is something that fades over time, in the same way that tears will dry on their own if you let them. Or maybe those tears simply become the water we swim in. We adapt to the pain. We no longer see or feel how we are hurting. It becomes second nature to us. And missing someone is just background noise, that ringing in your ear that comes and goes. Whether we realize it or not, it is a tone we can never hear again, a reminder of something permanently lost. 

As Billy grew older, the memory of his mother grew smaller in proportion. His mother became a chapter that was irrevocably closed, sealed off and tucked away. It was only last year when Billy started applying to colleges that he realized that he didn’t have a clue of who his mother actually was. All he had left was a handful of memories from 10 years ago and who was to say that she would even be the same person? He certainly wasn’t.

In his hands, he held a stack of envelopes, each with a different university addressed on the lid. The ones going to California lay on top. 

His mother had been out of prison for 2 years at that point. He was an adult, so he was free to go out there and find her. For the first time since the age of 7, he had a choice. 

So why wasn’t he grasping it with both hands now that he could? 

People have strange ways to rationalize their own behavior. The fact is that often times we don’t know _why _we do things. We act before we think, but do a great job at convincing ourselves it’s the other way around. The truth is, that as humans, as organisms, we just want to be comfortable. And nothing is more comfortable than what we already know. Not because what we know or what we have is good, but because it’s familiar. It’s consistent. It’s an environment that we understand. It is the same reason why Billy decided to stay with his dad, even when Susan offered him a way out. When you are in one situation long enough, it’s hard to believe that you can ask for anything more. Or that the grass on the other side is actually greener.

Billy stuffed the letters through the slot, one by one. By the one addressed to Berkley and San Diego somehow ended up in a bush, a few streets down from the postal office. Billy strutted back home, feeling the distance he created between him and his ‘lost’ applications grow with every step. His jaw was clenched, sweat on his back. 

He wanted to stay close to home anyway. California was too expensive anyway. He wouldn’t get in anyway. It wasn’t worth the try.

The truth was that Billy was scared. Not of his mother, but to spoil his memory of her. The mother that he imagined himself to have, was kind, gentle and forgiving. From what he’d learned in life, people simply weren’t like that. Everyone is jaded. Everyone has scars that tug on them. 

No one is safe.  
No one is a safe place to flee to.

So when it came to having an imperfect mother and believing in a perfect one, Billy chose the ideation. 

“It seems like yesterday that I heard you say that you'd rather eat a porcupine than die in Indiana,” Steve mumbled as he brought the water to his lips. Billy smiled.

“Alright, maybe like- two months before my death I’ll move to San Diego and die peacefully on the beach so the seagulls can feast on my body and scatter my remains all over the city.”

“Don’t you mean _ shitter _ ?” Steve corrected. Billy roared out a big, deep belly laugh.  
“Brilliant. Yes, I hope they shit some of me on my old chem teacher. That dude was a right prick. What’s next?” He leaned in to read from the paper.

“20. What does friendship mean to you?” He frowned. “Haven’t we answered that one already?” Steve also leaned in. It did sound familiar.  
“See, question 16 was ‘what do you value in friendship?’” Billy pointed out.

"Okay, that's easy then. Friendship is... sharing the good and the bad things and sticking with someone even when they are a pain in the ass."

“Friendship is.. loyalty," Billy added. "And showing up for someone. Like you don’t even have to explain yourself. You just say that you need them and there they are.” 

“Do you have a friend like that?” Steve was curious to know.

“Yeah, I do." Billy said. "Lyall is like that for me. All my fraternity brothers are, in a way. You just- we have this sort of mutual understanding that I haven’t found anywhere else.” Steve could kind of see how a kid like Billy, someone who has always had to vent for himself, would jump at an opportunity like this, to live with people who have sworn under oath to take care of you. He always assumed that dickheads just gravitated towards each other like flies accumulating on the same piece of rotten meat, but maybe there was more to it than that. Maybe this whole ‘brotherhood’ thing was more than just a buzzword they used to yield in new recruits.

“So take Lyall for example.” Billy continued. “He’s been super chill about whatever you and I get up to. He doesn’t tell anyone about our little escapades and _ I, in turn,_ keep my mouth shut about his affair with Mrs. Cooney.” Steve’s eyes practically rolled out of their sockets. "That's loyalty," Billy added and took another pull from his drink

“We’re not talking about Mrs. Cooney from the board of Religious Studies, are we?” Steve whimpered. 

“Nope, that’s the one,” Billy said, without a hint of resentment or ridicule. “He’s got a bit of a thing for older women. I won’t get into why, but either way: that guy really gets me and I just know that he has my back.” Steve thought long and hard. He didn’t know what it was about Billy's answer that seemed off. Sure, Lyall was a friend and such but- Steve himself could not live with someone who merely _tolerated _him, which sounded a lot like what Lyall was doing. Like- imagine if Steve never wanted to know about Amber and left as soon as she came through the door. Robin would be hurt, for sure. (Not that what Robin and Amber had was in any way comparable to him and Billy. What the boys had was- it was purely physical. Nothing more than that.) Plus, could you really call it loyalty if you expect something in return? Isn't that just mutual secrecy? 

“I think…” Steve started. “I think friendship is more than blind loyalty. Like- one of the things that makes Robin a great friend is that she’ll always tell it how it is. I can always count on her to call me out on my bullshit, to tell me if something is a dumb idea. She can be harsh sometimes, but it's kind of a tough-love situation.” 

“But I feel like sometimes friendship means carrying people out of their mistakes and helping them get to the other side,” Billy replied.

“Yeah- That’s not really what I mean- I mean I guess, but-” Steve bit his lip, tapping his finger on his thigh as he tried to collect his thoughts. Meanwhile, Billy had pulled out his pack and held it in front of Steve again. He already had a cigarette of his own hanging between lips. Steve eyed them longingly. 'Think about the cancer,' he told himself. 'Death is imminent. Your mom will be sad.'

"I really shouldn't" He sighed.

"Come on, you deserve one." Billy insisted. He plucked one out of the pack. 

"Say 'A'." Steve snickered and opened his mouth wide. 'This boy will be the death of me,' he thought as Billy placed the cancer stick between his lips. Steve pulled out his zippo and gave them both a light. Once the end was burning he took a deep drag and _GOD_ had he missed this. He might not like the burn of whiskey, but the way smoke tickled his throat would never get old for him. He relaxed his shoulders, thoughts circling back to the question at hand.

“A true friend… will help you fix the messes you make… but they will also acknowledge to you that you made a mess. I think that’s what real trust is. You can tell people when they are being dumb because you both know that you still love them regardless. A real friend can point out your flaws, but you can be okay with it. It doesn’t necessarily hurt.” Billy listened attentively, nursing his brew, cigarette in the other hand. He nodded slowly.

“I see what you mean, but Lyall and I have that as well. We just throw insults around all the time, but it’s cool, you know? It’s just humor.” Steve bit the inside of his lip. It wasn’t quite what he meant, but he decided to drop it for now.

“21. What role do love and affection play in your life?” Steve read. A soft smirk grew on his face. “Well, I imagine you’re practically drowning in it.” His expression fell when he glanced to his side and was met with a confused frown.

“What are you basing that on?” Billy asked quietly. Steve’s heart sank when he realized might have spoken out of turn. 

“I just meant- like affection from girls.” Billy’s face hadn’t moved. “Like- pretty much every girl on campus seems to want to be on you, so-“ Billy leaned over and grabbed the ashtray from the table and placed it on this thigh.

“I think you’re overestimating the amount of sex that I have, Harrington.” He said as he tipped the ash of his cigarette. Steve had to recalibrate. ‘Nooo,’ he thought. ‘He’s not about to tell me he’s not getting any. That simply can’t be true.’ 

“By how much?” 

“You tell me,” Billy replied as he brought the cig to his lips again. “Throw me a number.” Steve had to think. Apparently, it should be less than he thought, but he also didn’t want to aim too low and insult the guy.

“I’m guessing roughly once a week? Outside of me.” Billy laughed. It was a proper belly laugh, that showed of his pearly whites and put wrinkles around Billy’s eyes, but his eyes weren’t happy. But Steve still didn’t know if he aimed too high or too low.

“I barely mess with girls anymore,” Billy admitted. Steve’s stared incredulously for a good few seconds, which pulled yet another fit of laughter out of Billy. 

“‘S true.” He shrugged. “I just can’t be bothered anymore.” 

“So- Are you actually gay or what?” Billy scrunched up his nose.

“I don’t know. Not strictly either-or but I do like boys better, I guess.” Steve squinted.

“So… Why don’t you just say that you’re gay?”

“Because I’m not gay.” Billy’s cigarette waggled as he spoke. “I still like to fuck girls. Just haven’t been feeling like it lately.” It didn't add up for Steve. Billy wasn't usually one to play along with the bullshit. Why wasn't he telling it like it is?

“You know you can’t have both, right?" He said. "You have to pick one or the other.”

“Of course you can like both."A crease grew between Billy's brows. "Why the fuck not?” Steve squinted and scoffed.

“Yeah, right. Next thing you’re gonna tell me giraffes are real as well.” An uncomfortable silence fell over the room. Billy stared at the other boy, mouth slightly opened.

“I honestly can’t tell if you’re joking.” He whispered. Steve’s face remained blank.

“Joke about what?”

“Oh my god, you’re serious.” Billy’s face disappeared into his hands. Steve blinked. What the hell was this about?

“You know what, fine! Let’s drop it," he said. "Gay or not- doesn’t matter. _ It’s all fine_. Let’s move on-”

“Steve.” Billy had placed a hand on the other boy’s knee. Steve’s eye skipped between the hand and Billy’s face, not sure where this was going.  
“Steve,” Billy whispered. “Giraffes are real.” Steve paused. He let out a nervous chuckle before he took another drag.

“Yeah, millions of years ago, you mean.”

“No, I mean you can go to the zoo today and see real-life giraffes.” Steve looked at Billy as if his face held the answer to a riddle. 

“Noooo…” he tried, hoping that Billy would break already and tell him he was pulling his leg.

“Ask anyone, babe. Giraffes as real.” Steve was so busy grinding his gears that he didn’t even register Billy calling him ‘babe’.

“Giraffes are real?” His voice was so small and frail that Billy died a little bit inside. 

“Yes!” He laughed. “They are real animals that are alive today!” 

“I always thought they were some sort of joke animal!” Steve dug his fingers into his hair, mouth wide agape. “HOW ARE THEIR NECKS SO LONG?”

“To eat leaves from trees!” Billy heaved through a fit of uncontrollable laughter.

“WHY DON’T THEY JUST EAT GRASS! JESUS!” Billy was gripping at his stomach, with close to no sound coming out of his mouth. Choking and stuttering he caught his breath.

“Sweet mother, you are priceless.” He panted as he wiped the tears from his eyes. Steve had hiked his knees up to his chest, eyebrows deeply knitted together. “I’m not buying it.” Billy rolled his eyes fondly.

“Whatever. You can just go on with your life, denying the existence of giraffes and I don’t think the giraffes will care.”

“Giraffe.. what a stupid name for an animal.”

“Dude, all words are stupid. They're just sounds that we make at people and things that don’t mean anything until we decide they do.” Billy was clearly a fake deep drunk and Steve only found it a little bit annoying. There was a brief silence before either of them spoke again.

“So then where do you stand?” Billy asked. “Is it boys or girls for you?” Steve tilted his head.

“I haven’t figured that one out yet.” He admitted. Billy opened his palms.

“Just so you know… 'both' is an option.” Steve held Billy’s stare. “I’ll think about it.” And Billy decided that that would do for now.

“So if you're not not gay, why don’t you fuck with girls anymore then?” Steve mumbled into his knees.

Billy combed a hand through his hair and held it at the back. The words came out one by one. 

“I’ve tried...” For a moment he seemed lost in thought. Picked his glass back up, swirled the drink around for a while before he took a pull. When he spoke again, he came back with a question.

“What do you say when people ask about your scar? The one on your leg.” Billy was referring to the scar from when Steve was bitten by a Demodog on the junkyard three years ago. At this point, it had been on his body for so long that Steve mostly forgot about it until someone mentioned it to him. As it turns out, the bite of a Demodog is acidic and leaves a chemical burn. Because of that, the teeth marks on his shin never fully healed.

“I tell them that I fell in some glass. Sometimes that I jumped a fence and got stuck in the barbed wire.” Billy smiled, but it was more of a gesture than an honest expression of joy. He nodded and cast his eyes down.

“Girls get weird when they see my scars.” He admitted solemnly.

“Like- turned off?” Steve asked. Billy let out another low chuckle. 

“Nooo. No, they want to _know_.” His face had hardened. “How I got them. If it _hurt_. I mean, ha-come on- half of my torso is shredded. I lost a kidney. I was on morphine for 3 months. Yeah, that fucking hurt. But yeah, I tell them the same old bullshit story that everyone’s heard by now about being trapped in a mall fire and-“ he paused. “Somehow they always ask if they can touch them? And I can- They look at me… And I swear. They think they’re in Beauty and the Beast or something. Like they expect me to be grateful that they still want me. _ Despite _how gross I look. That-“

“Your scars don’t look gross,” Steve said, with a tone of indignation.

“I know," Billy said, matter-of-factly. "They look fucking badass, but they’ll still _act _as if it’s something I must be insecure about. Like- fuck that! I don’t have time for that shit! I’m not some kind of charity project they donate their pity to as if it will fix this- fix _ me_.” He inhaled sharply and Steve didn’t know what to say. He never knew what to say when people were frustrated or hurting. 

“That really sucks.” was all he could come up with.

“Please fuck off with your pity. That’s the one good thing you had going for you.”

“I’m not saying it for pity, but I genuinely find your scars very sexy.”

When Billy first took his shirt off in front of Steve, it was entirely different than when he'd seen him through his window that one morning. Towering on top of Steve, Billy looked so incredibly powerful and awe-inspiring. The scars had faded in some places. In other areas they were scarved deep into his skin, leaving a shimmering trail of connective tissue. They looked darker, flushed when he was hot or aroused. They were warm and rough to the touch. They were proof that miracles did happen. They belonged on Billy's body the way that eyebrows belong on a face. Billy was a force to be reckoned with and anyone who thought less did not deserve to share a bed with him. 

“You know,” Billy said, looking straight into Steve’s eyes. “to you I don’t have to explain anything. We can just fuck. So- that’s really it for me these days.” 

Steve had to take a moment to let it settle in that he and Hargrove had been mutually exclusive for- what? Two months? Three? When did he hook up Rachel Crowdy again?

“How does everyone still think that you’ve fucked half the campus?” Billy smiled sweetly.

“Because regardless of whether you did or not, a girl will always deny it. I don’t even have to comment on anything. People will believe what they want to believe.” Billy took another drag and turned the question back on Steve.  
“What about you? Are you getting any action? Don’t you live with that girl? What’s her face?”

“Robin? No, dude, Robin’s super gay.”

“Yeah, I know. I mean the other one.”

“Amber? She’s also gay.” Billy frowned and wondered how Steve managed to surround himself exclusively with women who were not attracted to him.

“They are gay together,” Steve explained.

“Oh!” The gears fell into place. “Right.”

“So are you getting any action in between or-“

“Noo."Steve laughed. "No, they are both very much exclusively into girls and I am not invited.” 

“Have you tried?”

“Let’s just move on. Question 22-“

“YOU DID?!” Billy shouted almost jumping up from the ground.

“NO, I DIDN’T YOU DINGUS! THEY’RE MY FRIENDS! Now shut up and answer me!” Billy burst out another laugh and missed half of the next question (or rather, assignment).

“Alternate sharing something you consider a positive characteristic of your partner,” Steve shouted through Billy’s giggles. “Share a total of five items.” He sat up to look Billy in the eyes, who seemed to have composed himself.

“Okay, erm- I think it was very nice of you to be so nice to me when I was being sad about my mum because- you didn't have to be nice. It would have been totally socially acceptable for you to not let me wipe my snot all over you but you still let me do that and I think that was very nice of you.” Billy smiled, his cheeks flushed either from the laughing or the booze.

"It's nothing," he said, almost- timidly. Which was a first.

"No, no it's not. That was very sweet and I honestly did not know you had it in you." Billy shrugged and said: "To be honest, neither did I. Erm-" He bit his lip.

“I think that- you care a lot about the people in your life and you treat them very well. I’ve never heard you speak ill of someone.” Steve hadn’t expected that one. He felt like he could be a pretty whiny dickhead from time to time, but maybe he was actually nicer than he thought himself to be. Or maybe Billy just didn’t know him well enough.

“You are… very hard working.” Steve continued. “You set your mind to something and then you do whatever it takes to get something done.” Billy smiled and nodded.

“Thanks.” It was odd, to sit so close to someone, look them in the eye and tell them things you wouldn't explicitly tell your best friends. But it's something else entirely when your face is mere inches away from theirs, _their_ hair tickling in _your_ neck.

“You are… very earnest in the way you speak." Billy said. "Something in the way you phrase things makes me believe them.”

“You didn’t believe me when I said giraffes aren't real.” Steve pointed out, rather offended. Billy snorted.

“I’m just saying that… often times when other people compliment me it kind of rolls off me, but with you it kind of- hits home.” Billy’s look had softened, but there was also something hiding behind his eyes. Something that was still hesitant, as if he was ready to run at the first sign of danger.

“I think…” Steve spoke slowly, without his eyes breaking away from Billy’s. “That you are very open. Which I did not expect.” Judging by Billy’s face he didn’t expect it either.  
“That’s probably the first time anyone has described me as such.” He chuckled.

“I know, but- throughout this whole thing… you’ve been so willing to share and… yeah, I have to say, I kind of admire that.” Billy gave Steve a nod and a grin.

“I wouldn’t get used to it.” He teased, but somewhere Steve understood that Billy meant it. And for the first time that night he wondered what might happen after they finished this. Would things change between them? For better or for worse? Or would they just go back to the way it was, fucking without talking? A hook-up but never a sleep-over.

“23. How close and warm is your family? Do you feel your childhood was happier than most other people’s?” Billy shook his head.

“It definitely wasn’t better than average and I’m glad it’s over.” He said. Steve lifted his brows.

“You’re really _glad_ your childhood is over?” 

“Yeah.” Billy shrugged as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“What if you could do it over? What if you had a nice dad and your mom was there and you would all live near the beach and surf every day?” Billy thought for a second but then shook his head.

“No, I wouldn’t.” Steve was completely dumbfounded. He had so many questions, but decided to start with the obvious one:

“Why?”

“Because being a kid sucks!” Billy counted on his fingers. “Adults don’t take you seriously. You can’t deal with shit emotionally. You’re a weak little monkey. You can’t have sex. You can’t smoke, drink or do anything worthwhile.” 

“I could really do without all those things if I got to be a kid again.” Steve sighed longingly. Billy hummed before another cloud of smoke escaped his lips.

“So tell me, what’s so good about being a kid?” Steve rested his face in his hand, eyes growing distant.

“I guess… I guess I like the emotional immaturity you mentioned. Maybe I couldn’t deal with things as well as I can now, but all my problems were so much smaller back then. They could pretty much solve themselves within a week. And I just spend so much more time doing things that I liked. I didn’t have a blissfully happy childhood or anything, but it wasn’t bad by any standard. But I definitely enjoyed being a kid. I’d go back any second.” Steve pushed the list back at Billy. “Last one of this set.” He announced.

“24. How do you feel about your relationship with your mother?” Steve shrugged.

“Erm- it’s okay. Out of my parents, I’m probably closer to her. My dad is just- he can be a robot sometimes. But I guess I wish I was closer with my mom. I think she wants to be closer as well.” 

Billy looked down at the list of questions the way he had looked at his university applications two years ago. He put them down and looked over at Steve. 

“My relationship with my mother is non-existent.” He said and it was as if those words were the final nail in the coffin of her memory.

//

“So,” Robin waved her hand impatiently. “You finished set two. I still don’t taste any drama. I ordered a hot plate of Drama earlier today and I am still waiting, quite famished, for said Drama.” 

“Right, so we finished set two and decided that it was time to switch things up again, so we climbed on the roof,” Steve explained.

“You went to the roof?” Amber stared at him. “_Drunk?!_”

“We were not _drunk_.” Steve huffed.

“Steve.” Robin deadpanned. “Believe me, you were drunk.”

“I wasn’t _ drunk_.” Steve insisted.

“You could barely ** _talk_ ** when you got here!”

“I was **_sad!_** There is a **difference**!” 

“Yes- getting back to that, actually: could you _ please _ explain _ why _ you were sad so I can give Hargrove the wedgy of his life?” 

“I’m getting to that, geez!”

“Steve, We’ve sat here listening to you recount every time you looked into each other’s eyes! It’s been three hours already! I think you can skip over a few things!” Steve rolled his eyes. That simply wasn't true. He'd skipped over a lot of things, especially the more... personal stuff.

“That’s **important** information!”

“Could you just- _ please _ wrap it up?”

“Fine, you'll be happy to know that we didn’t get a chance to finish the last set.” Robin gave him a stink eye.  
“And who was to blame for that?”

Steve paused. “I think we both played our part in the way things ended.”

[[Fighting in the Dark - Charly Bliss]](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7IsnNNmL-Y4)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know you might be wondering: how was there a football game going when it was snowing the whole night? Isn't it very irresponsible to play on a frozen field? and you are right. I couldn't really work this into the story, but all the players died that night because of the unsafe conditions. It was very traumatizing for everyone who was watching and the school had to deal with a massive lawsuit that nearly dragged them into bankruptcy. But our boys don't know that right now and they don't need to know, because I just need them to feel like the only two people in the world right now and if I need to kill two college sports teams for it, then that's what I'm prepared to do. 
> 
> Anyhow, let me know your thoughts. I should be back within a week or so.


	4. Set Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which two stars collide, an explosion that causes more light than heat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo lads. Glad to be back. Fun fact, this chapter contains: a Sex! I did not know there would be a Sex in this fic but as previously discussed: I am not the boss in this bitch. 
> 
> So something you might want to know before reading is that I myself am ace. I don’t necessarily understand The Sex. What is described below is just what I’ve picked up from other fics sprinkled with whatever the deep, rustic sound of Hozier's voice makes me feel when the moon is full and the stars aline. It might be really bad and cringy. I honestly don’t know. It's my first time. I don't think writing smut will become a regular thing for me. If you’re not interested in the smutty bits you can skip to ‘That’s how it started.’ And you won’t have missed anything of narrative relevance. 
> 
> Also I changed the timeline a little bit because it only just occurred to me that a semester is not six months. So they've been fucking for like three months tops.

[[Playlist]](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5eQniOZmzfhBL5g2qeAeY6)

**September 19th, 1987**

The first time had been at a mutual friend’s birthday. Or maybe it was a post-game victory celebration. It might have been something put on by a student union. It doesn’t matter either way. All college parties, at least the ones Steve found himself at, were the same. A bunch of young, drunk (and horny) people dancing to or shouting over bad synth music in a room that is not fitted to the number of people currently residing. It was only a matter of time before something would begin to stir between them. It was bound to happen at some point. 

Steve needed a break. From the crowd, the music, the brunette that was practically dry humping him in a rhythm that didn't even vaguely resemble the beat of the song. He gave the girl a gentle pat on the shoulder before he began to push his way through the sea of sweaty, sedated bodies. Upon stumbling into the hallway, he found the guest bathroom locked so he decided to try his luck upstairs. After trying a few doors he found an ensuite bathroom that appeared empty (emphasis on 'appeared'). But just as he had unzipped and started to relieve himself, a voice called from behind.

“Well look who it is! King Steve!”

A shudder travelled up Steve’s spine. He whipped his head back to see who the hell was talking. Shit- he’d pissed on the wall. Fuck. 

“Fancy seeing you here.” 

Steve adjusted his aim and looked over his shoulder, more carefully this time, to find none other than Billy fucking Hargrove staring back at him from the bathtub. His body hung limply in the tub, arms draped over both sides of the rim. Maybe it was the booze that made his vision hazy or the fact that he was still in denial about needing glasses, but Steve couldn’t discern whether or not there was water in the tub. Taking a bath in someone else's house certainly wouldn't have been the strangest thing Hargrove had ever done at a party. Steve could testify. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Steve slurred, still not entirely convinced that he wasn’t seeing ghosts. 

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Billy gestured at the tub with his cigarette before he took another drag. 

“In the _bath?”_ Steve’s said it as if it were a vegetable. Billy exhaled a thin stream of smoke.

“Why the fuck not?” I mean yeah, Steve thought. Why the fuck not. I’m just taking a piss while you're having a smoke in someone else's tub. This was bound to happen at some point.

Neither boy spoke while Steve continued his business.  
“Can you leave?” He asked after a while, throwing another annoyed glare over his shoulder.

“I don’t know, can I?”

“I’m _ peeing _ here, you know.”

“Are you? I hadn’t noticed.” Silence. Just Steve’s urine clattering into the pot.

“That’s a powerful stream you got there,” Billy remarked. Steve didn’t know what to make of the statement. 

“Yeah, held it for a while.” Was that really the best thing he could come up with?

When Billy got up from the tub there was no sloshing of water. Footsteps came Steve’s way just as he was finishing up. Out of the corner of his eye, Steve saw Billy’s boots halt next to the toilet, toes pointed at Steve. And he just... stayed there. When Steve finally gathered the courage to look up, he was somewhat surprised to find Billy’s eyes not trained on him but- well. It was still _ him_, just below the waistline. And Billy’s eyes did not seem to waver. It was uncomfortable, to say the least.

It was not like Steve was _embarrassed _or _prudish_. They had seen each other’s junk plenty of times in the gym showers. So why was Billy staring like that? And why did some weird part of Steve’s brain like it?

He shook the last remaining drips off his dick.   
“Can I help you?” Billy removed his cigarette from his lips, smoke pooling out of his nostrils. Steve was about to put his junk away when Billy stopped him. Steve's already quite intoxicated brain sputtered when Billy put his hand on top Steve's. The hand that was still holding his penis. Neither moved. Was Billy doing what Steve thought he was doing? Slowly his eyes trailed up to the guy's face. 

“Just inspecting the hose.” Billy’s words were slow, almost thoughtful, as his hand slid down into Steve's private zone.

[[To Be Alone - Hozier]](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CJV3VXAZ3vU)

If Steve had been paying attention to anything but Billy's movements he might have noticed his heart rate steadily increasing, then jumping at the touch. Heat grew on his neck as he felt the inexplicable urge to both get out and stay exactly where he was at the same time. 

The rabbiting of his heart stopped completely when Billy’s stormy blues finally met with his. He let out a small gasp as Billy’s fingers closed around his length, thumb brushed over Steve’s slit. He swallowed as he felt himself grow stiff in Billy’s hand. 

The boy smirked devilishly. “Interesting.” His voice had lowered to a deep hum. 

Billy dragged his thumb over the tip and smirked at the quiver that went through Steve’s body.  
“You like that?” He breathed, tongue peeking out between his lips. 

Steve watched, wide-eyed, lips parted as Billy got onto his knees and- took him in. A choked breath escaped Steve’s lips when he felt the warmth of Billy’s mouth around him. One of his hands made it to the tiled wall next to him to stabilize himself. He watched in both awe and apprehension how Billy closed his lips and started sucking, with deep and hollow cheeks, eyes tearing into Steve’s as if he was _daring_ him to look away. 

There was something deeply appalling and unholy about the sight of his High School nemesis wrapped around his dick, but at the same time... it was so poetic. That after years of telling Steve to 'suck my dick, Harrington', Billy had gone on down his knees for him. 

Right then, a number of things happened in very quick succession. Steve came. Hard. It was a good thing he already had one hand up against the wall or he might have stumbled. He hadn’t lasted this short since that first awkward handjob with Stacy MacElroy behind the Shake Shack. Billy, completely thrown off by Steve’s load shooting down his throat, gurgled, choked and spat everything back up, most of it landing on Steve and the wall behind him. 

And then they were screaming.

“WHAT THE FUCK, HARRINGTON!” Billy cried once he’s caught his breath, cum still dribbling from his lips. Steve stammered, blinking furiously as his brain sputtered to comprehend what had just happened.

“D’I- Wha-”

“You could have given me a fucking warning!” Billy got up from his knees, wiped his mouth, unlocked the door and just- left. The door creaked on its hinges.

Steve stood there next to the toilet: stunned, mouth gaping, dick out. 

“What the fuck was that?!” He shouted after Billy. But it was no use. The boy was gone.

Did all of that just happen? Did he really encounter Billy Hargrove in a stranger's bathroom, take a two-minute-long piss to then immediately after have Hargrove swallow his piss dick, come in his mouth in five seconds and have his own spunk spit onto himself. He looked down. The jizz that stained his jeans seemed to suggest it did. 

He flushed the toilet, made his way over to the sink and started washing himself off. When his friends asked why his jeans were wet he told them that someone had spilled their beer on him. 

No one ever found out who had pissed and jizzed on the bathroom walls. 

//

The second time was a few weeks later. Different party, similar settings. Drunk young horny people grinding up on each other to subordinate overplayed radio hits. Steve spotted him from the other side of the room, talking animatedly to a few guys in letterman jackets.

Steve tended to be the kind of friend that had to be told up on ‘what the fuck he did last night’, but this last encounter was engraved into his memory. He had been spinning it over in his mind on repeat for the past few weeks. Stop, rewind and replay. Over and over again. One time he even woke up in a sweat, underwear sticking to his crotch with the image of Billy on his dick still vivid in his mind. For a guy who had never questioned his sexuality before, every aspect of that encounter was thoroughly crisis inducing. During the day, Steve was somehow able to suppress the Bad (Gay) Thoughts, but they just seemed to linger and take revenge when he tried to go to sleep. Steve had always been into girls and girls had been into him. Easy peasy booby squeezy. But then Hargrove just had to barge in and wrap himself around Steve's penis to make things COMPLICATED and Steve didn’t like when things were COMPLICATED. He grunted and smothered himself in his pillow. Man, he really did dump his load after three stokes like a horny teenager, did he? Fucking pathetic. If he could, he would avoid Hargrove until the end of time so he’d never have to be reminded of that humiliating performance. Still, he knew that the only way to rectify whatever damage Hargrove had done to his psyche, was to talk to the boy and find out what the hell he was thinking when he took Steve’s dick in his mouth. Maybe it would help Steve figure out why he didn’t stop him.

At some point over the course of the evening, he caught Billy alone in the kitchen. By then he’d had enough booze to temper his fear of confrontation. ‘Now or never,’ he said to himself and took the leap.

“Hargrove.” He called. Man, did he sound stupid when he tried to sound authoritative. He just sounded like he was trying to be his father.

Billy, who was pouring himself a drink, turned around. He looked nothing more than amused. 

“King Steve,” He smirked. His entire postured radiated faux innocence. “Can I get you something?” 

“How about you tell me what the fuck happened last time in the bathroom?” Steve tried his best to keep his face slack, but his jaw was clenched and Billy could sense the nerves that vibrated through Steve’s body. He shot Steve another condescending look.

“Did the Wheeler chick never give you a blowjob?” Billy mused. “You missed out, man.”

“Shut up, I know what the fuck a blowjob is. What I want to know is what the fuck compelled you to get on your knees and suck me off in a stranger's-“ 

“Shut up,” Billy hissed, suddenly all up in Steve’s face. Steve had caught his attention. Good. The look in Billy’s eyes had shifted, from half-lidded to wide and alert. He glanced into the living room where the party was still going strong. 

“Follow me.”

Billy led him into a corridor, onto a room that read ‘laundry’. It was a cramped little space with four washing machines, one of which was labeled ‘defect’. None of them were loaded. Billy rested himself against one of the washing machines, one foot hiked up against the see-through plastic of the machine’s door.  
“Talk,” He ordered. Steve opened his mouth, but instead of producing sound he slowly shook his head.

“What was all that?” It was more breath than voice. “What- how did you even…” Billy worked his jaw, his chin lifted up to the ceiling.

“You seemed _ pretty into it _ at the time so I don’t know why you’re being such a pussy about it now,” Billy snapped. He stared Steve down, waited for the boy to snap back at him only… he didn’t. Steve’s face was pale, even in the yellow light of the poorly lit room, his teeth clenched around his lower lip, arms hugging himself. Almost… fearful. Billy didn’t use to mind people being scared of him. Not until he did. He pushed a hand through his curls and swallowed.

“Look, if you’re really bothered by it then I’m sorry and I pinky promise that it won’t happen again. How’s that sound?” He glanced up again to find Steve’s eyes still cast on his toes. 

“I'm not gay,” Steve said. Billy frowned.

“Good for you.” It sounded almost like a question. “Neither am I.” 

Steve glanced up, his chin still tucked, pretty brown eyes prying at Billy from under a concerned brow. It was strange to see the King so flustered. Billy sighed and pushed himself off the washing machine.  
“I’m not gonna tell anyone if that’s what you’re worried about,” He tried his best to act aloof while also… comforting the other boy? 

“None of it ever happened, for all I care.”

**[[Billie Eilish - Bad]](https://youtu.be/Pv6Rt2x6kPg?t=6) **(only on YouTube)

He was starting to regret blowing the guy in the first place until, to Billy’s surprise, Steve took a hesitant step forward. Billy raised his brow, a subtle grin as the other boy stepped into his personal space. 

“Unless you had other plans.” He murmured as his eyes traced every little move Steve made, travelling up from his belt back to his eyes. And as the boy moved in, Billy leaned back, grinning impishly until he was backed up against the washing machine. Steve put his hands on the machine on either side of Billy’s hips, trapping the boy between his arms. Billy’s eyes flickered between Steve’s eyes and his lips until their faces were so close he couldn’t look anywhere but the other boy’s eyes. Steve had good eyes. Sweet hazel ones, that got impossibly dark around the edges. The kind of eyes that can’t possibly look threatening, no matter how hard the owner tries. A few moments passed as their lips almost brushing together before Billy realized that Steve wasn’t moving any further. That he was waiting on Billy to make the next move. 

“This one’s you pretty boy.” He could feel the heat of his own breath cascade of Steve’s skin. “If you want it, you'll have to come get it.” 

And oh did he.

To the people passing by, it sounded an awful lot like someone had overloaded their washing machine. 

That’s how it started. Quick hookups behind closed doors. Few words exchanged before or after the deed. And although it was a fun way to pass the time, Steve wasn't any closer to figuring out what any of it meant. For them and to him personally. Did this mean that he was gay? Maybe. But he still liked girls. A lot. Nancy he had really loved and whatever this was between him and Billy… it was nothing like that. Not even close. 

Robin noticed, of course. It was hard not to when your roommate is out on a weekly basis and returns with dishevelled hair and suspicious bruises all over his neck and shoulders. He was seeing someone and nagging him about it became her new favorite pass time.

That was until one day, Steve figured that if he was going to tell anyone it might as well be her and he said: “What if I told you it wasn’t a _girl_.” The words came out slow, one by one as if Steve had to pull them out of his mouth by a string. He looked to Robin with reluctant but expecting eyes. Robin had searched his face for a hint of sarcasm, but let out a small ‘oh’ when she didn’t find a trace.

“So… guys...” She said, nodding slowly. Not exactly her area of expertise.

Steve gave her a flat smile and said: “Jop.” pouted and added: “Well- just this one guy, really. I’m not sure about… all the other ones.”

“Who is it?” Robin asked, but instantly corrected herself. “No, no. Don’t say. I don’t want you to out anyone.” She propped her elbow up on the backrest of the couch. She managed a full four seconds before she caved.

_“Is it someone I know?”_ She squealed.

“Yes,” Steve answered cautiously. Robin bit her tongue, thought, then smirked.

“Is it Hargrove?” It was a joke, of course. She was just teasing. Because never, not if they were the last two people on earth could it be Billy Hargrove. She waited for Steve to squirm, to make wild denials. His eyes had turned to saucers. And he still hadn’t rebutted anything. The realization dawned on her. 

“Is it?” She asked in a lowered voice. Steve offered her a tortured grimace. 

“Noooo!” Robin pleaded. “Steve, please tell me this is some sort of sick joke!” 

“Well, it sure feels like it!” Steve shouted back as he threw his hands up. Robin let out a long, agonized grunt as she sunk into the couch. 

“Out of ALL THE GUYS on this campus, Steve, you just HAD to pick the one that’s the _literal_ antichrist.”

“Okay, he’s not possessed anymore, alright?” Steve interjected. “He’s _changed._”

“Really?” Robin deadpanned. “How?” Steve’s mind stayed horrifyingly blank.

“Just… you know. In... good ways.”

“Wow…" Robin sighed. "He must dick you down real good because you’re _whipped_.” 

“Um- I’ll have you know that I dick _him _down. Thank you very much.” It was one of the few straws Steve grasped onto to convince himself that his heterosexual identity was not at all threatened by whatever he had going on with Billy. As long as nothing went into his hole, he should be in the clear, right? Right?

“You… _ dick him down_.” Robin repeated with a painful-looking squint. Steve rolled his eyes.

“Fine, I dick him up. He rides me like a pretty pony off into the sunset. Is that what you wanted to hear?” 

“That was way more than I wanted to hear,” Robin muttered, eyes distant. An uncomfortable silence settled over the room.

“How serious are you about him?” All the ridicule had left Robin's voice. It was the question Steve had been avoiding for the past few weeks. So long as he didn’t think about it or address it, it didn’t exist. He had gotten through a lot of things with that mindset, but this might not be one of them. He shrugged.

“I don’t know. I don’t see it doing anywhere.”

“What about him? What do you think he wants?” Steve didn’t have to think twice about that.

“Billy just wants someone to screw.” 

Only he did think twice about it. More than twice. Steve might not be great at thinking, but he was an excellent worrier. He knew that Billy had given him no sign whatsoever that he was interested in anything more than casual sex. The only times he was smooth and flirtatious with Steve was in the moments leading up to a hook-up, a kindness that seemed to evaporate as soon as he got what he came for: a coming. At the time, Steve was certain that Billy was still hooking up with other people on the side. If Billy wanted more commitment, he was doing a really poor job of showing it. And yet. There was still that little voice in the back of Steve’s mind just wanted certainty.

“Billy,” Steve had hummed, while the other boy was already shimmying back into his jeans.   
“What is it that we're doing?” Billy looked up with a disinterested glare, hand lingering on the door handle.

“Really? This again?” Steve sat up, sheets draped over his lower half.

“I mean between us. Where is this going?” Billy blinked at him.

“‘S not going anywhere.” He stated, his voice completely devoid of feeling.   
“Are you kidding? We would never work together.” All this time Steve hadn’t stopped to imagine what having a relationship with Billy Hargrove would actually be like.

He paused and took a drag from his post-coitus smoke and muttered: “Yeah, you’re probably right.” 

But the door had already fallen into its lock. 

That had been the first and the last time they talked about the nature of their relationship. Until that night in that faithful December, when Steve was watching Billy pry open the window of his old freshman bedroom. Maybe things were changing, Steve found himself thinking. Maybe they wouldn't fall in love tonight, but they could at least be friendly with each other. A mutual understanding, as Billy had put it earlier that same night. Steve no longer felt like he would have to ignore Billy if they crossed paths on the way to class. There would be no more hushed voices or hurried goodbyes. Maybe they could actually talk every once in a while. He wouldn’t have to steal glances from across the room until Billy would reciprocate his interest. Steve could just walk up to him and greet him like a friend. 

Billy’s bedroom had been on the top floor, a slanted wall of the roof side and a dormer that looked out over the campus grounds. Although the house seemed incredibly spacious, the bedrooms were rather cramped. They were all doubles, Billy had explained when Steve first spotted the two twin beds. It was clearly a room that had gone through a variety of owners, some who had taken better care of the space than others that had done only a poor to acceptable job of covering their traces. 

The slanted wall next to the window was filled with scribbles, which upon further inspection appeared to be names. Steve’s eyes rested on a pair near the bottom of the cloud.

_Billy H. & Lyall W. ‘86-7_

“What are you looking at?” Billy asked his hands on the opened window frame of the dormer that led them onto the slanted roof. Steve stepped back. 

“Nothing,” He said and watched as Billy propped his right foot upon the radiator under the window. His hands the window sill and he pulled himself up, landing his right shin on the frame. 

“Are you sure this is safe?” Steve asked for the third time while Billy pulled the rest of himself onto the roof. Although he had been drinking water, Steve still wasn’t feeling too steady on his feet. Yet Billy had far outpaced him with the drinks. Maybe that explained his confidence. Billy turned around and paused to look Steve in the eyes.

“Let me give you a nugget of advice, yeah?” Steve’s eyes narrowed, but Billy continued.   
“No good story ever started with: ‘I decided to play it safe’.” His tone was firm but sincere. “Live a little, will you? C’mon, get your ass out here.” He held out his hand which Steve reluctantly accepted. 

“Give yourself a boost off the radiator,” Billy instructed.

“It’s not gonna break?”

“Noo, trust me. I’ve been doing this from the day I got here. You’re fine.” So Steve did as he was told. He hiked his foot up and pushed off as Billy simultaneously pulled him forward and through the frame. Once he felt both legs securely underneath him, Steve glanced up.

“Oh wow.” 

[[Double for Me - Luwten]](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wv1JzEolDZ8)

To say that they could see the entire campus would have been a stretch but still, Steve was taken off guard by the sheer size of it all. The Daxton hall, the auditorium, and Steve’s own dorm building. They all looked so much smaller from up there. The roofs were all coated in a soft layer of white, many of the buildings decorated with lights and ornaments to get into the festive season. Looking down at it from above, it was as if a more colorful night sky unfolded itself underneath him. 

“It’s like the stars fell through a rainbow onto the world.” Steve breathed. Billy laughed.

"Are you still high or are you always this poetic?" Steve shook his head as his open-mouthed breaths hit the air in little clouds.

A few patches of clear sky began to break through the curtain of grey. Despite the beauty of both the night sky and the campus, every single light was outshone by the brightly illuminated football arena. If Steve really concentrated he could make out some of the words the commentators were saying. 

“This is amazing,” he whispered. 

A university often feels like a little world of its own, but from up there, Steve could see that it actually was. Suddenly the buildings looked like the skeleton of an ancient being wherein every person was just a newly formed cell, making their rounds until they had done their part and would move on from this body. It was beautiful. Steve was overcome with an inexplicable feeling of belonging. For the first time maybe since the day he set foot on these grounds, the sight of the campus didn’t overwhelm him. It was as if the structures that brought safety and knowledge to the people inside whispered to him: you’ll be okay. Maybe he was drunk or maybe he’d been crying or maybe he was tired and imagining things. But it was the first time in a long time that he believed it. That he actually felt that regardless of everything, of what happened tonight, of what would happen after, that he would be okay. As we know now, he would not be okay. But right then Steve didn’t know yet. He was happy. And he didn’t want any of it to end. 

“I used to sit here all the time,” Billy said, a soft smile painted onto his lips. “Just- watch people. Watch the world go by.”

Not that there were many people around at this hour. The grounds were almost entirely deserted. People were either inside or at the game.

“Can they see us?” Steve asked.

“If they can, I’ve never gotten any shit for it,” Billy answered. He pulled the list out from under his coat.   
“Shall we get cracking?” Steve nodded. It was getting late. They should wrap up before the new residents of the room can back. They cleared the snow from a small patch of the roof the best they could. Still, Steve could feel some wetness soaking into his jeans when they sat down, resting their shoes in the oversnowed gutter. His fingers were already burning from the cold. 

"25. Make three true “we” statements. For instance, “We are both in this room - or I guess on this roof - feeling ..."

‘It’s insane,’ Steve thought. ‘This morning I wouldn’t have been able to name a single thing we could possibly have in common.’ 

“We both… went through some shit. And came out on the other side.” Billy said.

“Yeah,” Steve said, a hint of surprise in his voice. “I guess we did.” 

“We’re both… not entirely straight.” Billy added, slow, gaging Steve’s reaction. Steve rolled his eyes. 

“Sure.”

Billy smirked. “So that’s two. You come up with the last one.” 

“I don’t know about you but I feel... in awe of everything,” Steve said with a soft chuckle. 

“Can you be more specific?” 

“Just- sitting here. The lights on the buildings. And you... I guess.” His gaze lingered over Billy’s giddy expression. 

“What about me?” The smile was audible through his words. His cheeks were glowing up, eyes bright. It looked good on him. 

“That you don’t seem to hate me.” Steve laughed. “That this is actually going well.” Billy's face went soft. 

“When you said it’d be interesting to try this with two people who- hate each other’s guts…” His voice had grown timid. Steve felt his stomach squirm. At the time it seemed like it was necessary to say it. To create distance, to ensure Billy that he wasn’t hitting on him. Billy’s eyes wavered.

“Where did you get the idea that I hate you?” There was a vulnerability in Billy’s question that Steve was not prepared for. It took him a second to create sentences. This was not something he would want to blurt out. How the hell do you explain to someone why you claimed to hate them? And how do you convince them otherwise?

“I mean- of course, I _ know _we were never friends in high school- rivals, enemies, call it what you will.” Steve stammered.  
“But like- even now, I honestly- I honestly don’t _know _where I stand with you most of the time. We’ve been so back and forth for the past few months. Like yesterday…” Steve paused for a second. Should he even bring yesterday up? Was he ready to skin that cat?  
“Things seemed good," He decided. "Then in the morning, we fight. You kick me out. Then you bring me my coat. Ask if I’m coming to the game. A few hours later I ask you to play this game. You get iffy about it but then you play anyway. And now- I don’t know about you, but I’m having a good time?” Billy nodded, quite vigorously also he kept a certain strain in his face. As if he was preparing to be struck. 

“I guess I just don’t know- what to expect from you..." Steve almost sounded sad when he said it. "Like- whenever we can sit like this and just talk like friends or you’re flirting with me I wonder how long it’s gonna last. And when you do push me away again, it's- It’s almost a relief because at least I _know_ that person, _that_ version of you. At least then I know where we stand.” Billy had averted his eyes. Not away from Steve, he just wasn't looking at him directly.

“But I guess we can make that three,” Steve tried in hopes to cheer Billy up. “We don’t hate each other!” Billy laughed, although there was still some tightness in his posture. 

“Sure,” And his smile pulled at Steve’s chest. He swore he could hear a little voice inside his head whisper: ‘Oh, you definitely don’t hate him.’

He pulled the collar of his jacket up. Although it had stopped snowing, the night had cooled down significantly since they’d walked to the frat house. 

“Are you cold?” Steve glanced up in surprise.

“No! No, I’m good. Don’t worry.” Billy raised an eyebrow.

“You’re shivering.” Steve lifted his red hands to find that they were actually quivering.

“Huh,” he said and turned them over as if he had only just discovered that he had fingers at the end of his palms. Billy shook his head.

“I told you you’re insane for only wearing a light jacket in fucking bumfuck Indiana,” He uttered as he pulled his zipper down. Steve frowned.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Billy halted his actions.

“You’re cold,” He said as if that was a valid explanation for why he was undressing.

“At least I _have_ a coat. Don’t tell me you were gonna_ give me yours_.” Billy shrugged and zipped himself back up. 

“At least take this.” He said while he started unwinding his scarf.

“No!”

“Okay, take the hat.”

“THAT’S THE LAST THING I’D PUT ON MY BODY!” Billy fell into a fit of giggles, leaning back against the pantiles. Steve tried his best to keep glaring but god did a smile look good on that boy. Billy had taken his hat off, his curls both flattened and sticking out in weird places. 

“Steve,” He managed through his giggles. 

“No.”

“Steve.”

“Not happening.”

“Put the hat on.”

“In your dreams.” 

“You’d look so good in it.”

“You fucking wish.”

“Coome ooon.” Billy propped himself up on one elbow, holding the hat out towards Steve as if it were a ring.

“Prove to me that you don’t hate me and accept from me this humble offering as a sign of my not-hating-you.” Steve snickered and rolled his eyes.

“Fine!” He bent his head forward and allowed Billy to pull the hat over his ears. Steve tried his best to keep a straight face but failed miserably.

“I look ridiculous.” He mumbled as he straightened up and toyed with the pom-pom on top of his head. 

“It’s nothing compared to that sailor’s outfit you had to wear that one summer.”

“Oh, can we _please _forget about that,” Steve whined. 

“Never!" Billy bellowed. "It’s a shame that they don’t air that ad anymore. I would_ die_ to have it on tape.”

“Right, can we please move on to the next question?” 

“Fine," Billy smirked. "‘Complete this sentence: “I wish I had someone with whom I could share …’" Steve thought. Now that he was thinking about it, he was quite blessed when it came to his friendships. He had good people around him with whom he felt he could share whatever thought or worry he had. Sure, Robin and Amber would tease him and call him a dumbass, but it was all in good spirits. Nothing was really off-limits with them, just things Steve felt they wouldn't understand.

“I wish I had someone with who I could share my… confusion. This feeling of- being out of place. It not like everyone around me knows exactly what they are doing or where they are heading, but at least they seem to be on the right track. At least they're doing something they_ like. _ And I just feel like I’ve just been moving down this dead-end road. I know this is leading me _nowhere_. I know I’m never going to finish business school. I think I knew that from my first day..." He swallowed.

Business school had promised Steve so many things. Status. Job opportunity. He was yet to cash in on any of it.  
The one thing Business School had contributed to his life was a concept he learned during his second semester. 'Opportunity cost'. Whatever we lose through all the choices we didn't make, what we could have had in the other timelines. Steve knew that his professor was talking about investments. That if you wait a year to open a savings account, you will have missed out on a year of interest. Whatever that interest would be for the money you have, is what you lost by not taking the opportunity.   
But the only investment Steve could think about was the five months he had thus far spend in these lecture rooms.

He hadn't been having a _great_ time, sure but when had school ever been great. It wasn't until he thought about all the choices that he wasn't making that he started weighing the one he had gone for. Why was he even doing this? What were the opportunities he was aiming for? To work for a big company? Earn a lot of money? But what would he even buy? A house with a pool would be nice, but if his life would turn out anything like his father's, he would never swim in it. 

It occurred to him that he could get up and leave. He could pack his things, walk out, off-campus and just do... whatever.

That was an opportunity.   
He wasn't taking it.   
And again.   
And again. 

With every passing second, he passively chose to keep doing something that wasn't adding anything to his life. Every second he felt himself moving closer to that dead-end, losing more and more of the time he was investing. Even though he wasn't listening to the lecture anymore, he only got up when the class was dismissed. He went back the next day. And the day after that. He handed in mediocre assignments that felt like hurdles rather than learning experiences. He came back after the summer.

It was just the easiest thing to do. To quit now was to admit that he'd lost a year of his life to this institution. The only way Steve knew how to deal with his loss was to invest more time. Besides, Steve didn't know what opportunities he was losing. He didn't have anything else he'd rather do. So even though Business School was torture, it was at least something. If he kept at it for another few years he'd at least have his paper to prove that he did something. That was supposed to make all that wasted time accounted for. That was supposed to make it worth it. 

“I guess I just wish I knew someone who would say: hey. I feel the same. I’m also lost. At least then I wouldn’t feel like I’m lagging behind everyone else.” A gentle silence settled over the roof once Steve was done talking.

“You’re not the only one who feels that way,” Billy promised. Steve let out another frustrated sigh and rested his elbows on his knees.

“I _ know _ that, but I don’t _ feel _ it, you know?”

“I guess I’d say the same,” Billy said quietly. “Maybe I don’t hate uni as much as you do, but like- when it comes to _ life_.” He paused, eyes trained on the flickering lights in the distance. His face was cast in this soft glow that changed color along with the Christmas lights beneath them. 

“I don’t think it’s something you can understand if you haven’t died or nearly died. It’s like… 'what now?', you know?” He chuckled softly. “I know I said that I’m living for myself, but- what the hell do I even want? It’s not like I’ve learned anything about living by dying.” He paused.

“There were some literal things I had to learn again. Like- walking. Feeding myself. But like… one of the hardest things was learning who I am, who I _ want _to be. All these doctors kept telling me that I just wasn’t going to be the same afterwards. That shit- like losing half your body, being possessed, killing a bunch of people, it just- it changes you. And thank god because the person I was before was fucking useless, but- now I’m just kind of... here, I guess. I really don’t know why I survived, why God put me back here. If I have some unfinished business. If I have some _great destiny_ to fulfil. I don’t know!” He swallowed.

“Or maybe God isn’t even real after all and life is just arbitrary and meaningless! Which makes things just that little bit harder I guess.” He glanced over at Steve.  
“So yeah, I totally know what it’s like to feel lost.” 

The boys held each other's gaze for a moment. Billy's eyes were clear, as if he'd rubbed all the fog from the window and for the first time Steve could actually see inside. It was odd. It was a kind of naked he hadn't seem from Billy before. Below them on the ground, a few people who decided to leave the game passed the building. It was that part of the night when time itself doesn't seem to exist. 

“I guess I wish I had someone to share that Upside Down shit with,” Billy said. “As in I hate having to _lie_ to everyone all the time. I didn't die a _hero__. _It was my fault that it happened in the first place. But you know, it's too late to change the story now so I'm just gonna have to live with the fact that I'm a fraud and keep telling the same stupid lies for the rest of my life.” 

"I don't think you're a fraud," Steve said. "We're all just doing what we need to do in order to survive."

"I've been doing that all my life. I'd like to do something more than just 'survive' for a change." Billy paused. "For a long time that all I felt I was. Just... the One that Survived. God knows why."

"Do you still feel guilty? For the people that died?" Steve was careful with his words.

"Yeah!" Billy laughed humorlessly. "Yeah, it still haunts me like- every day. Like- I should have just killed myself the moment I got infected so at least all those all other people could have lived!" Steve's throat clenched.

"It would have found a new host." 

"You don't know that." Billy turned to look at Steve with eyes that looked like shattered glass. 

"There's plenty of stuff we don't know," Steve whispered. "What if Dustin hadn't cut the song short? What if El hadn't been bitten by the Mind Flayer? What if that Terminator guy had shown up _before_ Hopper and Mrs Wheeler could turn off the key? We're never going to know that stuff. What if you got impaled one more time? It happened the way it happened." Steve waited for Billy to say something. The boy was either lost in his thoughts or he'd completely zoned out. Steve decided to let him. They had experienced more than enough to think or zone out about. 

Steve listened to the commentators in the distance, huddled up next to Billy as they looked out over the buildings and the changing lights. The speakers did a stellar job at pretending that this game tonight was the most important thing that would ever happen in the history of mankind. They would do the same thing next match and the one after that. It's one thing Steve admired about sports fans. How good they were at living in the now, forgot past failures and instead relished in the victories of the day.

"I think you should forgive yourself," Steve said, his voice crisp. "From what I've heard it sounded like you had very little control over yourself when that thing was inside you." Billy grunted.

"You sound like my doctors." Steve laughed and even Billy managed a small smile, even if it only lasted for a second or so. 

“What was it actually like… when that thing was inside you?” 

“Terrible."

For a while, Steve thought that was the only thing Billy wanted to say, but then he spoke up again.

"It’s like… It’s what I imagine being raped feels like. Just- I could feel it using my body. But it was like I was completely limp. I couldn’t do anything. But I was still- I was very much _there_ for all of it. I think it wanted me to see. But it sort of put me in the back seat while it took the wheel."

"That sounds fucking awful."

"Yeah, to put it lightly."

“Hey," Steve whispered. Billy finally glanced over. It took Steve another moment to figure out what he wanted to say.

"I might not know exactly what everything you’ve been through is like, but-“ he nodded without the need for words. “I know what you’re talking about. I know that shit. The monsters. The dimensions and stuff. I might not be able to help but I can always listen and at least you won’t have to call it your Mall Fire Accident.” Billy snickered and held Steve’s gaze for a second or two longer than strictly necessary.

"Thanks," Billy whispered and it almost looked like he was smiling again. “Want to move on?”

“Sure,” 

“27. If you were going to become a close friend with your partner, please share what would be important for him or her to know.” Steve folded the paper back up and looked to Billy expectantly, whos brows had knitted together into a thoughtful frown. After a while he said:

“Can we change this question a little bit?” Steve hesitated. He glanced back at the page.

“D'erm- What, what were you thinking?”

Billy rolled his lips as if he were weighing the words in his mouth. “Can we instead tell each other why we thought we wouldn’t work as anything more than a hook-up?” Steve blinked, his heart rocketing into his throat. 

No. No, that was a _very bad idea_. Why- Was he suggesting what Steve thought he was? 

“Erm- I- I don’t see what that has to do with the question.” He stammered with an uncomfortable giggle, fidgeting with the pages. Billy tried his best to keep an airy composure.

“If I was going to be friends with someone, I think it'd be at least interesting to know why he wouldn't want to be closer. But maybe that's just me.” He said it without lifting his eyes from the oversnowed pantiles. It didn't make sense.

'Why he wouldn't want to be closer', Steve repeated to himself. _You're _the one who said it. I just agreed with you. Why are you acting like I'm the one that rejected you?

Steve took a long deep breath. “I don’t know.” He hissed through his teeth. Although he sort of wanted to tell Billy his reasons, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know what Billy’s were. What if it was something so confrontational that it would ruin everything they’d build up tonight?

“I’m thinking that maybe… some things are better left unsaid.” Steve decided. Billy swallowed, but nodded, tongue clenched between his teeth.

“Alright. Soo... what would you want me to know?”

Steve hummed and disappeared in thought for a moment.  
“You know all the important stuff I think. All the- traumas. The juicy stuff.” It took him a while to find something Billy didn’t already know at this point in the evening. At least it had never been said out loud.

“I guess you should know that- some people have… warned me against… getting involved with you. They thought it was a bad idea, that I... I don't know. They thought I might end up hurt.” Billy glanced away. Steve swallowed, suddenly unsure whether he should have shared it.

“I think it’d be fair for you to know that... if we were going to become friends...”

Billy still hadn’t answered. He wore a strained look over his face. Maybe it was the cold that was getting to him.

“So is that your reason?” His tone was grim. “That your friends don’t like me?” Steve’s heart clenched in his chest. Everything in him screamed 'NO'. He didn’t want to have this conversation. Not now. Not when things had been going so well. He didn’t want their time to run out just yet.

“No,” he said. “I have my own reasons. It’s not like I just blindly follow what my-“

“So what are they then?” Billy's glare was daring, demanding and above all impatient. Steve's eyes blew wide, breath choked at the sudden aggression. But that was the thing. He should be surprised by an outburst like this. And if it had been anyone else, he probably would have been. 

'Alright,' Steve thought. 'I guess we’re really doing this.'

“Well, for starters there’s that whole thing where you punched my face to pulp.”

Billy stared at Steve as if he was making a joke. Steve had to admit, it was ages ago. It hadn’t been the first or the last time he’d received a beating and mentioning it now felt like a bit like a cop-out. It was a cop-out. But Billy shouldn't have put him on the spot like this.

“And then you kind of became the Herald of Hell,” Steve continued. The look in Billy's eyes darkened.

“Oh so two minutes ago you were saying that that wasn't my fault, but I guess you changed your mind? Apparently I now _chose_ to get mind-raped by a meat monster-”

“You did choose to be a racist.” Billy’s eyebrows rose. Steve stared back intently.  
“Yes. You heard me.” 

“That’s a _ big _ word,” Billy chuckled as he shook his head, jaw low.

“Dude, don’t pretend like you don’t know what I mean.” Steve bit back.

Billy rolled his eyes. “So I make a few jokes-”

“I’m not talking about the jokes. I’m talking about Lucas Sinclair.” Billy stared at Steve as if he had turned green.

“What about him?”

“Didn’t you go specifically after him?”

“You’re talking about one night three years ago.” 

“Did you or did you not?” 

“Dude, did you hear me and Max on the phone or what? Lucas and I are _fine._”

“_Tolerance _ is not the same as respect.” Steve retorted. Billy barked up a humorless laugh.

“That’s a cute one-liner. You should write that down.”

“You asked!" Steve shouted and threw his arms up. "You needed to know so _there_ you go! _Those_ are my reasons!” They weren't. 

“Fine! Let’s move on!” Billy yanked the pages out of Steve's hand, almost ripping up them in the process.  
“28! Tell the person something you like about them already. Be really honest this time.” Billy folded up the paper as said:

“Well, erm- I for one am really loving your ability stick labels on people and judge them when you know close to _nothing_ about a situation. I think that’s really admirable and eeh- I imagine it takes a lot of _ courage _ to shove such a big stick up your own ass.” Steve's jaw went slack. Was Billy actually gonna play it like a bratty toddler that got told off and had his toy taken away?

“Oh yeah? I love that your answer for every problem is either to punch it out of your life or to bite back instead of listening to criticism!”

“I don’t know when I asked to be criticized, Harrington!” Billy spat back.

“When you asked me to tell you why I wouldn’t date you!" Steve fumed. "Honestly- what did you _think _ I was gonna say-"

“Oh, you know, I just remembered another thing I like about you!" Billy continued as if he couldn't hear Steve talking. "I love how you just decide you’re gonna get a new pair of glasses when the ones you have are easily fixable with the right material. You know, the type that you wear, the designer ones, they could easily pay someone’s rent. And you just throw that money away for convenience!” Billy did not catch a break after that. It was like he'd finally lost his grip on the rock he'd been rolling up a hill and now that it had started coming down, there was no way to stop it. He was only gaining momentum. 

“And I think one of your best qualities is that you can_ whine_ about your life as if you have the weight of the world on your shoulders when you’re really just a fucked up trust fund kid who has so many opportunities that he just _doesn’t know_ what to choose from and so he just gets baked with his roommates all day! I love that you’re one of those losers that peaked in high school and gets bummed out when the Real World demands more than being pretty and rich!” As he kept going, his words became more and more venomous.

“You know, I’m not surprised that someone like you would come knocking down someone’s door with a fucking _ game _ like this- because it’s just a _game_ to you, isn’t it?” Billy hissed as he threw the pages in Steve’s face. “It’s not like _ you _ have to sit there recounting every single way you’ve been **fucked over** since the day you were born!” 

“‘Uuh mY MumMy wOrKS a LOt’- FUCK OFF! MINE COULD BE **DEAD** FOR ALL I KNOW! MINE HAS BEEN OUT OF PRISON FOR TWO YEARS AND SHE DIDN’T EVEN COME _LOOKING_ FOR ME!” Billy bellowed. His face had turned from a happy blush to deep crimson. “_FUCK_ YOU AND YOUR _FUCKING _ABANDONMENT ISSUES! AT LEAST SHE WAS THERE TO FIND YOU WHEN YOU DECIDED TO CHUCK THOSE PILLS LIKE A _FUCKING_ PUSSY!” 

Maybe Billy had run out of anger. Or maybe he’d realized that he’d crossed a line. But he stopped screaming. The clouds of his breath grew smaller as his pants slowed down. After that cacophony of rage, the roof had turned awfully silent. 

“So that’s your reason then?” Steve breathed hoarsely. “That I’m some preppy prick that always gets what he wants?” There were tears pricking behind his eyes.

“I guess you haven’t been listening then.” It was barely a whisper.

He wiped the tears from his face, turned himself around so his legs were dangling from the window sill and hopped back into the room. He strutted towards the door and paused to listen.

There were no steps behind him. No 'stop'. No 'wait'. No 'I didn't mean it. Please before you go can we talk?'

He opened the door and slammed it shut behind him. 

// 

** [[Waves - Chloe Moriondo]](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lwiUyJIAIZ4) **

Once outside the realization dawned on Steve that they had fucked up. Royally. That within minutes, they had undone all the progress they had made that night and then some. 

He should have said no.  
He shouldn’t have let Billy get on his nerves.  
He shouldn’t have opened that can of worms.

Then again, wouldn’t it have come out at one point or another? Hadn’t this been the walk they had been running towards? Maybe it was bound to happen at some point. Maybe they were doomed from the start. 

Steve stepped back until he could see the roof of the building. There was light behind only one of the dormers. The roof was abandoned.

“YOU KNOW WHAT I LIKE ABOUT YOU?” Steve shouted at the opened window.  
“I LIKE HOW YOU ONLY PRETEND **NOT** TO BE AN ASSHOLE WHEN IT SUITS YOU AND THEN AS SOON AS PEOPLE AREN’T USEFUL TO YOU ANYMORE, YOU SPIT THEM OUT LIKE OLD GUM!” 

“I LIKE THAT YOU’RE A MANIPULATIVE PIECE OF SHIT JUST LIKE ALL YOUR OTHER FRIENDS! I LIKE THAT YOU ONLY LISTEN TO MY PROBLEMS TO STAB ME IN THE BACK WITH THEM LATER!” He wiped at the tears that were rolling down to his chin. And with every little bit of fire he had left in him, he howled like he wanted to split his throat in two.

“AND I LIKE HOW YOU MADE ME FEEL **SAFE**! AND **SEEN**. AND **LISTENED TO** AND THEN PROVE THAT **ACTUALLY- I WAS WRONG ALL ALONG**! **AND ROBIN WAS RIGHT**! YOU HAVEN’T CHANGED. YOU’RE STILL THE SAME **SORRY EXCUSE OF A PERSON **THAT YOU WERE WHEN YOU GOT TO HAWKINS. **YOU KILL EVERYTHING YOU TOUCH!**”

His voice was breaking over the words, but he didn’t care. His body was quivering with emotions. The lights became blurry through his tears. 

Steve turned around and stomped away from the building, stumbling over either the snow or his own feet. He wanted Billy to watch him leave, but he didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of checking if he was looking. When he did cave and turned around, the light in the room had been turned off.

More fat tears crawled down Steve’s cheeks that we glowing red from the crying, the alcohol and the cold. He kept his eyes trained on his shoes, on the way the snow crunched when he stomped down on the pavements. He halted when he saw a line drawn in the snow. He looked up. It was Billy’s drawing. The one he had made maybe an hour ago. Not more than two. Steve looked at their footprints. How they circled all around the drawing and- how they had stopped in one spot. The place where he had caught Billy when he tripped. Where he had held him up, felt Billy's breath fan against his skin. Where he had almost kissed him.

He could almost see it. See himself and Billy in that stupid hat and he was so happy and giddy and _hopeful_. They looked so much younger than Steve felt. 

He got it then, what relativity means. That something that happened mere hours ago can feel light-years away, can feel like another lifetime. As if it happened to someone else entirely. That if time stands still for you, you have to catch up at one point. And Steve was paying his dues. 

He felt it all at once. The earth spinning around its axis, around the sun, around the galaxy, the milky way. He could feel himself hurling through space, spinning and twisting at a terrifying speed. He let himself fall down to his knees and onto his back in the snow and stared up at the night sky to find it had been overgrown with clouds. He closed his eyes but everything was still spinning. 

It felt good to have earth underneath him at the very least. To sink into the snow and have it touch him everywhere. He wanted to feel it everywhere. He prayed for the earth to swallow him, dirt piling on his chest, adding pressure on his lungs. He wanted something to hold him in place. Something to cocoon him. He would disappear without anyone knowing where he went. His friends and family would wonder where he had gone so suddenly. He would reassure them in their dreams that- really, he was okay. He’d gone to a better place. To the middle of the earth where no one ever asked anything of him. Where he could hang out with the moles and the foxes and be kept warm by the molten center of the earth. It would be a good life. A life without worries and expectations. A life that was free. 

Distant voices drew closer. He didn’t know how close until someone called his name from above him. He opened his eyes to see the bleary image of a figure bending over him. 

“Steve?” The familiar voice repeated. Steve adjusted his glasses and blinked. It was Lyall. Out of all people.

“What the fuck are you doing?” The guy wore a tired frown, a football scarf was thrown over his shoulders.

“You know this guy?” Another voice asked. Lyall glanced up.

“He’s a friend of Billy.” He answered before he returned to Steve.  
“How long have you been lying here?”

“I don’t know,” Steve slurred. It might have been a minute. Maybe ten. Maybe he’d dozed off for a bit.

“It’s 20 degrees. What the fuck were you thinking?”

“I don’t know.” Steve didn’t know. He didn’t know much of anything anymore. He didn’t know why he made half the choices he’d made that night. He didn’t know where he should go from here. He didn’t know what would happen between him and Billy. And least of all did he know who Billy was.

“Lyall, come on, let’s go!”

“Go on, I’ll be right there!” Lyall shouted back at his mates.  
“Can you get up?” Concern was growing in voice. Steve thought for a second and responded with a weak ‘Yeah…’ before he pushed himself up into a sitting position. He felt heavy. Not just your average I’m a bit drunk and my limbs aren’t cooperating heavy but a cosmic kind of heavy. The kind of heavy the Atlas must have felt when the Gods put the earth on his shoulders. ‘Maybe Billy is right,’ Steve thought. ‘Maybe I am just a pathetic rich kid who is narcissistic enough to compare himself to the Greek god who had to carry the entire universe on his back.’

Lyall held out a hand and pulled Steve up on his feet. 

“Where’s your dorm?” He asked rather sternly. Steve’s brow furrowed and he pointed in the general direction from which he came. Lyall let out a deep breath.  
“Alright.” And then grabbed Steve’s waist and slung the boy over his shoulder as if he was a sack of potatoes.

“Wo- HEY! What the FUCK do you think you’re doing?!” Steve immediately felt much more awake, now that he was hanging upside down over the jock’s shoulder.

“I’m gonna get you home, King,” Lyall replied as he set course in the direction Steve had pointed.

“I can walk there _myself_, thanks!” Steve snapped back.

“Yeah, well you didn’t make it very far last time you tried so I’m just gonna take some repercussions if you don’t mind.” Steve made a very pathetic attempt to wrestle himself out of Lyall grip, failed spectacularly and pouted - not that Lyall could see. He probably hadn’t felt more than a wiggle. The frat house was slowly growing smaller and smaller in the distance. There was something quite nice about the rhythmic thuds of Lyall’s footsteps in the snow. Steve decided that maybe being carried wasn’t too bad, certainly not the worst thing that happened to him that night.

“Why are you doing this?” He asked after they (or rather Lyall) had been walking for a while.

“Because Billy cares about you. And Billy is a brother so I guess you are, too." Lyall licked his lips. He'd forgotten his lip balm before he went to the game and it had been bothering him the whole time.   
“Plus you probably would’ve freezed out there and what would Bloomington be without its king, right?”

“Ugh… Fucking hate that nickname.” Steve muttered. Lyall laughed. His laugh was like everything else about him: strong.

“Yeah, so Billy told me.” There was a seconds pause before he added:  
“Talks about you often.” Steve barely registered what Lyall was trying to imply.

“Well, I don’t think you’ll be hearing much about me from now on.” He grumbled as he allowed his arms to dangle down, swaying with each step. Lyall hummed.

“You guys had a fight or what?” 

“Yeah, something like that.”

“You’ll be okay,” Lyall said with an odd certainty in his tone. Steve felt like he had heard that before on that night, but he didn’t remember where.

“He’ll turn around. He usually does.” 

“Why do you assume that he did something? What if it was me?”

“It wasn’t him who was crying in the snow, was it?” Oh fuck, was it so obvious that he’d been crying?, Steve thought. As if the whole situation wasn’t embarrassing enough already.  
“Plus,” Lyall sighed. “I know the guy. I can’t tell you all of it but he lives with a lot of pain. Lots of anger issues.”

“Oh, you don’t have to tell _me_,” Steve scoffed. Maybe it was for the best. Billy had been right. They would never work as a couple. It was better that they broke the illusion sooner than later.

“He talks about you, too, you know?” Steve said. “It sounds like you’re a really good friend to him.” Lyall’s shoulder shook with the chuckle the boy let out. 

“I try to be.”

Maybe Steve had been right about Billy, but he’d definitely been wrong about Lyall.

//

“So basically,” Robin started. “You and Billy did the experiment. It went alright for a while. Then you started yelling at each other. Then you got drunk-sad and had a little lie-down in the snow and Lyall Weinstein just happened to come back from the football game and carried you home.” There was a brief moment of silence.

“Yeah, basically,” Steve said.

“Okay, so Steve.” Robin leaned in for as far as she could with Amber sitting in her lap. 

“**That’s** how you abbreviate a story.” 

“I kinda like the long version,” Amber said as she twisted to look at her girlfriend, who rolled her eyes. 

“Amber, you like_ everything. _ That doesn’t count. You’re just one of those people who are notoriously happy about everything.”

“That’s not true! I don’t like how much America is spending on warfare. And I also don’t like infant mortality. And neo nazi's-”

“Yes, yes.” Robin interrupted her girlfriend with a peck on the lips and the stupidest grin. “You’re a true champion of the cause.” It should make Steve happy to see the two of them happy and in love but he didn’t seem to have access to his whole palette of positive emotions at that time. 

“The point is,” Robin concluded, “that Billy Hargrove is cancelled and he’s not coming back.” 

“I think that’s safe to say,” Steve grumbled. 

“I think we all need some hot cocoa. Babe, care to stay for some hot cocoa?”

“Hmmm alright. But after that, I _ have _ to get going.” Robin turned to her roommate. 

“Steve, cocoa?” He pulled a face, eyeing the empty glass in front of him. He knew that sugar would give him more headaches but _ugh_ did he crave a warm drink.

“I should probably stick to water,” He sighed.

“Shut up. You’re sad. You’re drinking cocoa. Babe, can you release me?” Amber got up to allow Robin to get to business.   
“Will be ready in 10 minutes!” She called as she left the room.

[[Verdriet - Eefje de Visser]](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RAJRuexMyY8)

Amber sat back down and offered Steve a sad smile. He too managed to pull up the corners of his mouth, if only for a second. 

“I guess that on the bright side we did produce some interesting data for your experiment.” He sighed and rested his face in his hands. Amber nodded slowly. She chewed on the inside of her cheek.

“I mean- we can’t use it for the publication because we weren’t there for it… You guys already had a pre-existing relationship.”

“We also took a lot longer than you guys did,” Steve added.

“And you got _ drunk!" _ Amber laughed. “Right off the bat!”

“That’s not true. First, we got high and _ then _ we got drunk.” Amber rolled her eyes up. 

“Honestly, Steve. It’s like you’ve never done an experiment before.” She chuckled fondly. And Steve managed a soft smile. It was hard not to when he had such amazing friends.

“I think I might have oversold it to you.” Amber murmured, her hooded eyes grown sad. 

“I mean- It’s _true _that one couple is getting married but- it’s not like it’s a receipt for a long-lasting relationship. A lot of the pairings say that they want to meet up again but when I bump into someone in passing and ask about it, only half of them actually did so.” She shrugged. “People are fickle.”

“I guess they are.” Steve tapped his empty glass on the table. A few seconds passed before either of them spoke again.

“Do you really think you guys are done for good?” Amber asked cautiously. Steve nodded.

“He made it pretty clear what he thinks of me.” He leaned back in his chair. “I think he just got a thrill out of topping the whiny rich kid.”

“I think you’re selling yourself short.” Amber’s voice wavered. 

“I’m not saying it’s what _I_ think. It’s just-” He waved his hands. “Apparently that’s what I am to other people. I mean-" He combed his fingers through his unruly hair. "I know I am. I don’t know why I’m even surprised.”

“I’ve never seen you - no offense - but I didn’t even know your parents were rich until a few weeks ago and you’ve always been delightful.”

“Did you just call him _ delightful ?”_ Robin called from the kitchen. Amber smiled and yelled back:

“You’re both delightful people!” Robin made a gagging noise.

“But seriously Steve, Billy is surrounded by preppy pretty boys. I really think he likes you. Why else would he have asked why you wouldn’t date him. It’s _ so _ obvious!”

“But that’s the thing!” Steve growled. “It’s not! One moment he’s all over me, being nice and courteous. He gives me his hat! We’re laughing! We’re having a good time! Then he asks me why I wouldn’t date him and next thing I know he _explodes in my face!_ How the hell am I supposed to- Oh, don’t give me that look.” Amber’s eyes widened. 

“What look?”

Steve crossed his arms. “Like you know something that I don’t. _ That look_.” 

“I’m just saying-” Amber stammered. “It sounds like he was feeling nervous and vulnerable and he lashed out. I don’t think it’s inconsistent. I think it makes sense.”

It was right there and then that Steve decided that he was never going to date a psychologist. Sure, Amber was one of his best friends, but if he learned anything from being around her on a daily basis it was that she could not for the life of her stop psycho-analyzing everyone and everything that came on her path and it got really tiresome after a while. 

“Well, I’m not interested in him if he’s gonna be like that.” Steve decided. 

“Good call,” Robin chipped in as she strolled back into the room, carrying three steaming mugs in her two hands. “You can do much better.”

But Amber still had that same look in her eyes. The one that said: ‘I Know People’.

‘You’re 23,’ Steve thought. ‘How much can you really know about people?’

Robin put a blue mug in front of him. Steve smiled. She even remembered to put little marshmallows on top of his drink, even though he was the only one out of the three of them who liked them.

“He asked me to stay, you know?" He mumbled as he stirred the liquid in his mug.

"What, when you left?" Robin asked. Steve shook his head.

"No, Yesterday- no, like- yesterday's yesterday. We'd hooked up after the pep rally and I was about to leave when he asked where I was going. So I said 'home duh' and he said that I could stay. Which, to be clear, had _never_ happened before. He always leaves or kicks me out. So I really wasn't sure if it was going to be a good idea. I told him I had class in the morning, but he just kept repeating that I could stay and it took me a while to realize that he actually _wanted_ me to. But he didn't ask. He just kept saying 'it's fine you can stay'. So... I did. And I asked him if he'd set an alarm, which- you know- he didn't and then I jump up the next morning, realize I'm late for class and he's so- He acted like I had no right to be there when he_ asked me._" Robin reached out to touch Steve's hand when his voice started to quiver.

"He _asked_ me to stay and the next morning he acts like I'm some kind of cheap whore who just sneaked into his bed when-" He bit his lip, eyes tightly locked onto the steaming up in front of him. 

"That sucks," Amber whispered. That condescending look was gone.

"I just can't do it, you know?" Steve whispered on an exhale. "I can't keep waiting for him to figure out what he wants from me while he keeps pushing me around." Robin walked around the table to wrap her arms around his shoulders, resting her chin in the crook of his neck. He smiled wetly, reached up to grab one of her hands. 

"I thought that maybe he wanted more but-" A sob escaped his lips. "I just feel so _used-_" His eyes squeezed shut at the same time that Robin tightened her grip around him.

This is what she had feared would happen the first time he told her about Billy all those months ago. That he was going to wind up hurt. That it would only be a matter of time before things went south. She had to accept right then that there was nothing she could have done to prevent it from happening. It had been his choice. This was his pain. She could only hold him through the worst of it.

"I'm done," Steve blubbered. "We're over. I'm never seeing that asshole again. He can go fuck himself. I've _so_ over him."

As we both know, Steve wasn't over him. It was not the last time they would see each other and they most certainly weren't finished.   
But Steve didn’t know that yet. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's sad boi Steve hours y'all 
> 
> I don't know if anyone actually listens to the songs I add to the story (plz do I promise they are mighty fine tunes that add to the feel of the story), but that last one was a Dutch one. The title literally translates to 'sadness', but 'sadness' in Dutch doesn't quite mean the same as the English 'feeling sad'. 'Verdriet' is a quiet, but painful kind of sadness, the hurt you feel when you sit on a bus on your birthday and realize that you're gonna have to eat dinner by yourself and you rest your head against the window and feel a tear spill down your cheek and you just feel more pathetic from the fact that you're living a cliche. (Have I been there? Possibly maybe definitely yes) That kind of sadness. I won't translate the whole song, but it basically lists all the ways in which the narrator has been hurt and how another person had it even worse. The chorus kinda goes like this:
> 
> 'I thought that I knew  
I wanted to see but I didn't see  
I thought that I understood everything  
but I only understand my own pain'
> 
> I thought that sentiment quite fitted their situation.
> 
> I'm sorry that this chapter took a little longer than expected. I'm currently at the start of the thesis writing process and I basically had my first panic over the course of the last week. As of now, it seems that I got a green light on my idea. I can't make any promises on when the finale will be out, but I what I can say is: it is my favourite out of all the chapters. A lot of dots will be connected. We're gonna have a lot of angst. A lot of mutual pining. But it's all gonna be fine in the end. m a y b e 
> 
> Please comment and let me know your thoughts!


	5. How It Ends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Featuring a heart, a brain and an impossible decision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brothers. Fine fellas. My beloved comrades.  
I've been away, but it hasn't been for none. Over the past month, I've spent a lot of time writing on this finale to get it the way I want it to be and oh my god I'm tearing up as I'm typing this because I'm so proud of this chapter. There are scenes in here that kept me going while I was writing everything that came before because I knew I needed to get to them and now we're finally here. I can't wait for you to read this but before you do, I have some housekeeping that needs to be done.
> 
> First of all, around a week ago I realized that I had to split it up in two chapters. I initially set out to have everything that happens after Set 3 be one chapter but found out that it just didn’t make sense. There was a clear point in the middle where one part of the story ended and a new one began. You’ll see what I mean when that one goes up.
> 
> So this is the first half of the finale. This is 'How It Ends'. There will still be an epilogue after this.  
The story hasn't changed. If anything, it became longer because I felt the freedom to add a few scenes now that everything didn't have to be crammed into one chapter. It just means that you're getting an earlier update that if I were to post it all in one go! More info on Chapter 6 at the end of this chapter
> 
> Second, if you made it think far you probably noticed that I link to songs in certain scenes. I don't know if people actually listen to the songs or if it just annoys you as you're trying to read, but in my eyes, they add something to the story and it's my fic so imma keep doing it. On that note, this chapter is VERY song heavy. And you definitely don't have to listen to all of them, although I do recommend you check them out. But if you would rather have the abbreviated playlist, I bolded the songs that I think I most important to the scenes. The other ones are kind of optional if you want more background on what the characters are feeling at that particular moment. There is a link to the spotify playlist at the start of the chapter, but some songs ('102' and 'I Can't Leave You Alone') are only available on Soundcloud.
> 
> And finally, I want to dedicate this chapter to my roommate Vera, who has helped me with the business theory that shows up in this chapter. I doubt you'll ever read this, but I'm on the roof if you need me.

[[Playlist]](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5eQniOZmzfhBL5g2qeAeY6?si=dGe5qvPHQiusKrXATIZL1Q)

**December 1987**

Over the course of the days that followed their experiment, it became clear that Steve’s hangover had been more emotion than substance-related. The nausea and fogginess stayed long after his body processed all the toxins. He felt like a dirty window. As if all of him was covered in a thin layer of grease. No matter how he scratched or washed, the feeling didn’t go away. He still felt dirty. He still felt nauseated. Even three days down. 

He shouldn't have been surprised. This was the Billy he had come to know. In a lot of ways, the guy was like an ocean. Dark, powerful and full of life, but he also came and went as he pleased. One moment he would drag Steve in by his ankles and for an undefined amount of time, Steve would be allowed to swim the boy's mysterious waters, only to be thrown back onto the shore like a piece of driftwood. This was not new. It was what Billy did and what he had always done. But like a piece of driftwood, weathered by the elements, Steve could only take so much. There came a moment when he reached his limit and the wood snapped.

And as if a broken heart wasn’t enough to deal with, he also seemed to have caught Robin’s cold. Not much of a surprise to anyone, considering that he’d been walking around in only two layers and on top of that, had decided to make snow angels when it was 10 degrees outside.

Two days into his routine of moping and sneezing and listening to sad mixtapes, Robin knocked on Steve’s bedroom door.

He shoved a gray hat back under his pillow. “C’m in,” he called hoarsely and immediately fell into a coughing fit. The door opened to a crack. Robin let the strip of light grow steadily to allow Steve’s eyes to adjust.

“Hey,” she whispered. “How are you feeling?” Steve stared blankly at the ceiling and shrugged. He felt like had run out of feeling. Kind of like the time in high school when Tommy H. had gotten his hands on some MDMA. The high had been amazing, but the payoff was just that much worse. Steve should know by now that the universe did not allow him to simply be happy. It always seemed to come with a prize.

“You got mail,” Robin said, a hint of hope shining through her words as she held up an envelope. Steve pushed himself up on his elbows. “Can I see?” He mumbled through clogged sinuses.

“Yeah, ‘course. You want me to turn the big light on?” Steve nodded.

“Here it comes. One, two-“ Steve closed his eyes. 

The inside of his eyelids turned red. He blinked carefully against the brightness to see Robin stepped over piles of clothes to get to his bed. 

“It doesn’t say from who.” She said as she handed the letter over. They both had a feeling. He flipped the envelope to read his own name in an unfamiliar, boyish-looking handwriting. Other than that it was a plain, somewhat heavy envelope. 

“Looks pretty stacked,” Robin noted. It did. The lid was barely closing. It was quite easy therefore to rip it open.   
Steve pealed the contents out. 

“What is it?” Robin asked. It was a folded stack of paper. Steve unfolded the sheets. His eyes landed in the middle of the page.

  1. _Given the choice of anyone in the world, who would you most want to have dinner with?_

He swallowed thickly.   
“The experiment.” The copy he left at the frat house when he stormed off. 

Steve wondered if it was possible to get a papercut on your heart because he certainly felt like he had been stabbed in the chest by these pages. Was this Billy’s way of telling him that they were done? 

“Wow, that’s a bitch move,” Robin mumbled and crossed her arms.  
“I mean he could have just throw them away but he decides to shove it in your face again.” Steve looked at the wrinkled paper. There were places where snowflakes had bled out the ink. Steve remembered how fresh and unblemished they had looked when he watched them roll out of the copy machine. How hopefull he had been when he picked up the warm pages. And how tattered and jaded they now looked. Now they were just another piece of trash spat ashore by the waves.

He wrapped both hands around the paper and ripped them in half in one sharp movement. The cry of the paper as it tore was so incredibly satisfying. It felt so good to pull and rip and break. He placed the halves over each other and tore them again and again, harder this time, and then crumbled everything up into a ball and dunked them into his trash can. Little shreds of paper separated on flight and fluttered to his floor.

“There,” Steve said and pulled the comforter back over his shoulders.   
“Where he belongs.”

// 

** [[Chateau (Feel Alright) - Djo]](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AdA5Zsc2Nzo) **

His cold had cleared up for the most part by the time Robin and he drove back to Hawkins for Christmas. Robin fell asleep during the first hour, so it was just Steve and the radio for the rest of the journey. He had just made it to 28 hours without crying when ‘If You Don’t Know Me By Now’ by Simply Red came on and he cried silently, eyes locked on the road ahead. Robin pretended to still be asleep. 

Christmas dinner with his family was hard. His father kept nagging him about his school progress and kept proposing internships at companies of his friends. Steve had planned to break them the news that he was dropping out at the end of the year, but with everything else going on, he really didn’t feel ready for that particular confrontation. He was fully capable of being disappointed in himself. Didn’t need help from mommy and daddy with that one, thank you very much. His mother seemed to notice that he was a bit off and told her husband to enjoy his duck and let their son catch a break.

During a particularly dragging silence, Steve glanced up just in time to see a boy with curly blond hair pass by the window, a bubbly redhead on his shoulders. The boy was laughing too. He glanced into the restaurant and his smile faltered when his eyes landed on Steve. Maybe it was just for a second. It’s all relative after all. Steve didn’t know what he wanted the boy to do but he wanted him to do something. Anything. But the boy glanced away and kept walking. As if Steve hadn’t even been there. 

Rebuilding went slowly. Steve’s emotional hangover stayed for another week. And then another. He blamed it on the weather. Winter in Indiana was too damn depressing. Robin told him to stop moping. But Steve wasn’t sure that he was moping. The paper cuts on his heart were healing over, though sometimes it still hurt to breathe. 

As winter turned into spring, the snow became rain. And it rained all the time. Steve spent many hours tracking the paths of raindrops on the window when he should be listening to a professor ramble on about innovation strategies or management hierarchies. He really didn't care at this point. Most days he preferred to stay in and smoke pot. He knew Robin was getting worried about him, so he only skipped when he knew she had class.

Steve’s mind still regularly ambushed him with memories of That Night at the moments when he least expected them. It could be something as simple as a poster of the solar system in the hallway as he walked to his lecture that made his mind wander to the tennis court, to Billy’s animated blabbering, his flushed cheeks, his weight against Steve’s chest when he tripped and fell. A particular shade of red could remind him of the lavish chairs in the frat house, how close Billy had been while they sat on the carpet, looking both regal and trampy with his scotch and his ratty band shirt, all the while basking in the soft golden glow of a chandelier. But most of all, he thought back to the Christmas lights on the buildings, how small everything had looked from up high and how just for a moment, he had felt a womb-like safety, a feeling he had been chasing after ever since. 

Steve felt like he left something on that roof that night. Maybe it was his will to pretend. Because this dwelling emptiness he felt was not new. He hadn’t been happy for a long time. It was a truth he had been forced to confront. He just lost the energy to keep up appearances. 

Then it was March and Steve was running late to class - again - because he overslept - again. He really would have skipped if he wasn’t getting in trouble for his attendance. But in his hurry, he forgot to zip his bag, his shoelace was becoming undone and he didn’t watch where he was going so next thing he knew he knocked into someone and his ass and books both hit the grass. There was a chorus of ‘woooh’s and laughter. Steve groaned and looked up to see Billy and a bunch of his mates staring down at him. The mere sight of Billy’s face hit him like a train. The cuts on his heart felt like there were about to tear again. Steve must have looked like he just saw a ghost. But Billy had clenched his jaw and mumbled: “Watch where you’re going.” and resumed his pace. He had his back turned to Steve before he could fully register what had happened. 

Those were the first words Billy had spoken to him since December. 

‘Watch where you’re going.’

There was no 'hey, how you doing?' or 'sorry, are you okay.'  
What Steve wouldn't give to hear an apology from that boy.

But he had acted like he didn’t even know Steve’s name. 

It was only because of the looks he was getting from the people passing by that Steve realized he was still on his ass. So he got up, gathered his books and carried on, a lot slower this time. He got another condemning glare from his professor when he snuck into the classroom 10 minutes late. 

As per usual he couldn’t keep his thoughts on the topic of the lesson. Instead, they trailed back to his brief encounter with Billy. How bored and disinterested he had looked when he saw Steve lying on the ground. And how he had seemed so utterly unaffected. 

It frustrated Steve that it bothered him so much and it angered him even more that he didn’t understand _ why _it affected him so deeply. 'I should be over you,' he thought, a deep frown wrinkling his forehead. He didn’t realize it then, but this was the first time he felt ignored by Billy. Even when they were in high school, Billy had never given him a cold shoulder. Whether positively or negatively, he had always been the center of Billy’s attention. It annoyed the hell out of him while it lasted, but now that it was gone, he felt unsure about whether or not he actually existed to the guy. 

Steve yerked up to find the professor snapping his hand in front of his face. His glasses had slipped down his nose. Had he dozed off again?

"Well, well. Good morning to you, too." Laughter bubbled up around him. Shit. He had, hadn't he?  
“What’s your name, young man?” The professor asked in a sly tone of voice. He was one of Steve's younger teachers, only pushing the end of his thirties. The type that always wore a suit, liked to drop names during his lectures and carried himself as if the room was too small for him. A grin that seemed too wide for his face and stark blue eyes that never smiled along.

“D’eerr- Steve, sir.” He stuttered as he straightened himself up in a faint attempt to look wide awake.

“Steve.” The man repeated dryly. “Is that all?” Steve blinked at him.

“It’s short for Stephan...” he mumbled. There was muffled laughter in the seats behind him. The professor's eyes skipped from the snickering students back to Steve with a glint that forecasted bad tidings.

“Do you have a _ last name_, Stephan?” Steve felt heat rise to his face.

“Yeah, er- Harrington.” He stammered.

“_Stephan Harrington_.” The man pronounced it the German way, with as sharp ‘s’ and a breathy ‘h’ that revealed his long teeth as a hissed Steve’s name. He folded his arms behind his back and started pacing the podium. 

“Stephan, let me tell you something about _ Business_. There are two types of people who introduce themselves with their first name only: women...” he smirked at the snickers that rippled through the lecture hall “...and men who don’t care to leave a memorable impression.” Another wave of laughter went around. 

“Now, Stephan, since you were clearly... not paying attention, I _ understand _that you weren’t too keen on leaving a lasting impression. However,” he waged his index finger as if he was hitting his own pause button. “Maybe you dozed off simply because- I can’t teach you anything! You have done all the required _and _recommended reading and so you know every next thing that comes out of my mouth, so let me ask you-“ Somewhere into that sentence Steve had forgotten to breathe in. His face was slowly turning green. 

“Stephan, could you explain theBehavior Theory of the Firm to the class?" Steve turned red like a beat.

“It’s eeh- a theory of behavior. Of a firm.” 

"Brilliant!" The professor whipped his hand. "Now tell us something we don't know from the name." He smirked at the laughter that went around. "How about we start with the two key assumptions?" Steve anxiously scanned the blackboard for a lead, anything at all, but he couldn't find anything about behavior or firms.

“Tu-tu-tu, eyes on me, Stephan. You won’t find it on the board.” 'Then why the fuck are you asking me?' Steve pleaded in his head. He pretended to flip through the pages of his notebook that was filled 80% with doodles and 20% with random terms of which he only wrote down half of the definition.

“Does anyone want to help Stephan out?” The man rolled from his heel to the tip of his toe as if he was having the time of his life. A hand went up in the front row.  
"Yes, girl in blue."

"Profit maximization and perfect knowledge." 

"Gold star! Profit maximization and _perfect knowledge_. Do we hear that, Stephan?" Despite his gleeful demeanor, the professor's eyes stayed cold and unfeeling. He continued.  
“It's alright, Stephan. Happens to the best of us. Maybe you could name some resources that could improve a company’s Sustainable Comparative Advantage?” 

“D’ermm- investments.” It sounded a lot more like a question. The man pursed his lips and nodded.

"_Capital._ Sure, sure. Anything else?" Shit, Steve knew he'd heard or read this somewhere but where? And _what__? _How many would he have to list before his tyrant was satisfied?

"Oh- management!" He blurted. It shouldn't have sounded like such a victory.

"What types of management?" Shit, there were types of management?

"The... good ones?" A cacophony of laughter burst out among the students. Even the professor himself chuckled along.   
“I like you, Stephan. You're a funny one." He continued his strolls. 

"Alright, last question. I’ll make it an easy one. What is... ‘Mauresmo’?” He stopped abruptly at the end of his sentence. It sounded like a French or Italian term. How the hell was this supposed to be the easy one? People whispered. Steve didn’t dare to open his mouth. He didn’t dare to look away. He only knew to glare back at the ice-cold stare of the teacher, while his last bit of dignity was stripped from him.

“It’s my last name.” The professor spoke languidly. The words echoed through the classroom that had suddenly become very quiet. Mauresmo gave Steve a final look over and said, while he turned away. “Consider this a lesson not only in Business Dynamics but also on how to make people remember your name.”

Mauresmo continued on with his lesson, but Steve wasn’t listening anymore. His ears had started ringing, vision tunneling. The walls were moving in on him. Why did he suddenly feel every place where his clothes touched his skin? Why had his lungs turned the size of grapefruits?

The seat clattered when he got up, nearly knocking his stationary off his flip-out table. He no longer cared that people were staring at them. He had felt their eyes burning on his back even when they weren’t looking. The entire room had turned dead silent. You could hear every single item on Steve’s desk being swiped into his backpack. 

“Got more important places to be, I see,” Mauresmo uttered while Steve squeezed himself through the rows of desks, eyes on the door as if it were a rope and he was dangling off a cliff. 

“I think What’s-His-Name is going to catch up on some of his reading and hopefully join us next time when he’s better prepared.”

//

Steve made no attempts to hide the fact that he was crying as he strode back to his dorm in long, hurried paces. Stupid fucking _asshole _professor. He couldn’t wait to get in his bed and _never _come out. Not in a million years.

When Amber crossed paths with him on the pavement, she had to do a double-take to see if it had really been Steve and not an Olympian fast-walker.  
“Steve!” She called and turned around to hurry after him. Her legs were far shorter than his, so it took her a moment to catch up with him.

“Steve,” she panted. He refused to look up. “Steve, Steve. Stop. What’s wrong?”  
“It’s- It’s nothing.” Steve blubbered, all the while continuing his strides. “I’m fine.” He sounded everything but.

“You know, you’re a bad liar on your best days, but this trumps everything.” Amber replied. Steve stopped, lips quivering. The look in his eyes scared Amber. She had never seen him this… bitter. His face contorted as if he just ate something very, very sour. As if the entire world had turned against him. He broke with a sharp intake of breath, followed by shuttered sniffles.  
“Just-” He struggled to catch his breath - or find words, for that matter. “I _hate_ this! I _fucking hate_ college! I never should have applied! I’m too dumb for this _shit_-” He dug his hands in his hair, gripping at the strands as the tears rolled down his face.

“Hey, hey. Calm down. Breathe. We’re gonna get some coffee and you’re going to tell me what’s going on with you. You've been off for a while, haven't you?” 

Not much later they were in Steve’s living room and Steve had told her the whole ordeal over a mug of coffee and a bar of chocolate. 

“You need to file a complaint,” Amber said, brows woven into a deep frown. “He can’t just do this to you. You can’t single out a student and decide to humiliate them in front of the entire class. That's an abuse of power and - quite frankly - it’s bullying.” Steve shrugged, but he shrugged as if he’d taken five muscle relaxers. As if he truly and utterly couldn’t find the energy to care.

“I don’t know,” he slurred, breathing through his mouth since his nose was clogged with tears. 

“I just- I don’t _ care _ anymore.” He choked out a tired laugh. “I’m so _ done _.” He finally looked up to meet Amber’s eyes.

“I’m so done with _ all _ of this shit. I just want to go home-” The word got stuck in his throat. Home. Hawkins hadn’t felt like home for a long time. Sure, it was the place where he grew up and his parents and a lot of people he cared about lived there, but the town felt to him like a sweater that he had outgrown, that had shrunk in the wash and was itchy in all the wrong places. But a college sweatshirt fit him just as poorly. His choice was discomfort in one form or another _or _defying both and settling for standing naked in the cold. And after half a bar of chocolate, Steve wasn’t feeling so confident about his body that he was going to risk that. 

“I ran into Billy on the way to class.” Steve breathed slowly. “Like- literally, ran into him. And it was like he didn’t even recognize me.” The look on Amber’s face shifted. She waited to see if he was going to say more but decided to ask when he didn’t. 

“What would you have wanted him to do?” Steve’s eyes widened, gesturing wildly as if to say that he didn’t have the slightest clue. 

“I don’t know,” he whispered. “I’ve imagined a thousand times over what I would say to him next time we talked, but I just- I shut down. It was crazy.” He combed a hand through his hair and ended up resting his face in his hand. 

“I guess I just didn’t expect it to be like this. I didn’t think he’d… that he’d be so cold.” Both looked up when the front door opened. 

“Hey Rob1” Steve called out.

“Hey Stef!” She shouted back from the hallway as she took off her coat.

“Home already? I thought you had class?” She stopped dead in her tracks as soon as she set foot in the living room.  
“Wow, you two look like you just came back from a funeral. What’s going on?” Steve huffed a soft laugh and glanced down at his coffee.

“Steve had a run-in with his professor. It was nasty.” Amber explained. 

“What’d he do?” Robin breathed as she moved behind her girlfriend's chair, wound her arms around Amber’s shoulders and planted a kiss on top of her head.

“Gave me this pop quiz because I was late and I wasn’t paying attention. Basically called me a girl in front of the whole class.”

“Okay, the fact that he doesn’t know any insults worse than ‘girl’ is pathetic.”

“I mean it didn’t go exactly like that, but-” Steve sighed. “I don’t know.” There was a moment of silence before Amber spoke up.

“Steve, about what you said about Billy-” Oh no.

“Wait, what the FUCK DOES RAT MULLET HAVE TO DO WITH THIS?”

Steve closed his eyes. Why did you go there, Amber? Why did you have to open this can of worms? There was a reason why he had brought it up while Robin wasn't home. She had made her stance on Billy very clear and it was not very forgiving. Amber, all the while did not seem the slightest bit bothered by the death glare Steve was serving her.

“Do you want to tell the story?” She asked without a single hint of remorse.

“No.” Steve snapped and wrapped his arms around himself. “There’s no story. Forget about it.” Robin leaned in, her eyes turning dark.

“What did he do?” She nearly growled.

“Nothing!” Steve threw his hands up. “That’s kind of the point! I fell over and he didn’t do anything.”

"Then why did you fall?" Robin deadpanned, but quickly added: "Never mind, it's you. I shouldn't be surprised." And again, Steve's glares seemed to fall on dead eyes.

“Steve, it was not nothing."Amber continued. "You were clearly upset by it.” 

“Yeah, and why are you upset?” Robin interjected. “What the hell ‘did you expect him to do?”

“I don’t want to be upset!" Steve yelled. "It was stupid! Everything about this is stupid! I just want it to go away!”

“If you want the feelings to go _ away, _ ” Amber said, slowly as if Steve was five years old. “Maybe you should _ talk about them_.” Steve rolled his eyes.

“You’re such a therapist.”

“I’m a psychology major.”

“Whatever. Same, same, different.” Amber gave him a look. 

“When Billy kept walking...” She started slowly. “How did that make you feel?”

‘What do you mean ‘not a therapist’?’ Steve thought, but he played along anyway.

“It just made me feel… like none of it even happened. Like he wants to pretend like we didn’t bang each other for three months and then told each other our deepest secrets. But it _did _ happen.” He paused, gaze cast down at his shoes. Robin opened her mouth but Amber was just in time to put a finger to her lips.  
“I mean- no offense to you guys, but he probably knows me better than anyone else now. That night we told each other things...” Steve paused, unsure of whether he wanted to finish that sentence. He had intentionally left a lot of things out when he recounted the experiment for Robin and Amber. Most of what was cut were answers from Billy, but he also kept quiet about some of his own stories. Maybe someday he would tell them about his suicide attempt, but he didn't want them to find out through his recollection of the experiment. For now, Billy was still the only one to know.

"It's just too strange that he felt like my best friend for one moment and how he's just… gone. And I'm supposed to carry on as if nothing happened. It’s over. Chapter closed. This is just- This is how it ends.” He laughed humorlessly. “_Apparently_, this is how this story ends. We just _ never _ talked to each other again.” 

It was the abruptness of their 'break up' that Steve found the hardest to deal with. How they had gone from sharing the most intimate details about their lives to shouting the vilest insults and then... nothing. It had left Steve with an untreated emotional whiplash that he was very slowly recovering from. But this latest encounter had twisted his neck all over again. 

But maybe this was just how these things go. After all, they had never been officially anything to each other. Billy didn't owe him any rectification or apology. They would just move on.  
Steve tried to imagine what it would be like to see Billy across a room and pretend to feel nothing. To cross paths on the campus and act like he felt nothing. To go to the basketball games and look at anyone else but him. He wondered (not for the first time) if Billy ever felt bad about what happened. If he ever thought about it. If he had to _pretend _to be unaffected when he saw Steve lying on the ground. If that was the case, he was a brilliant actor.

Would things have ended differently if they just kept their mouths shut that night? Would it have made a difference at all? Hadn’t they always been on borrowed time? Steve wasn’t sure of anything anymore.

“Do you _ want _ to see him again?” Amber’s asked.

“Yes- No!” Steve stammered, eyes screwing shut. “I don’t know! I don’t know what I want from him. I guess I was still holding out hope that we would tie things up in a way that- I don’t know. Something that made the story fit. I just want it to make sense.” A heavy silence fell over the room.

“Steve,” There was a shift in Robin’s tone that Steve immediately recognized. It was a coldness that very, _ very _rarely came out. “I’m going to be very frank with you. You might not like it. I’ve been hoping you’d realize this yourself but I’m starting to feel like you just need someone to come out and tell it to you like it is.” She unfolded her hands, eyes locked into Steve’s.

“Billy never cared about you.” She allowed the words to marinate. Steve heard them. He understood them. But they didn’t ring true.

“You need to accept that he is a piece of shit, that he treated you like shit and there’s no reason for that other than that he’s rotten. He’s _just _an _awful _guy. There are terrible people in this world and they are going to screw you over for no reason other than that it was convenient for them. And the reason why you struggle with this is because you’re a good guy. So you live under this assumption that everyone else is good and wants good things. And that’s simply not true.” Something in Robin’s eyes had hardened. Like a callous from many years ago.

“Guys like Hargrove- they only care about their own pleasure. You can try all you want to find an explanation for the way he treated you, but this is the only one: he’s just an egocentric piece of shit. Now- I don’t really care what it is you need to do to let that sink in and really understand it, but you’re gonna have to write the end yourself. Hargrove is not going to come in and help you solve the riddle. This one’s on you.” Amber had listened to Robin talk, arms folded over each other, waiting for her turn to speak. 

“I don’t think that's fair. There are always two sides to a story-” But this was the difference between Amber and Robin. Amber would at least pretend to be listening and allow you to finish your sentence. Robin would cut you off whenever she felt suit.

“No- Amber, _ you _need to stop coddling him about this. Steve,” She turned back to her roommate. “Billy never cared about you. That sucks to hear, but this has gone on for too long. You are allowing Billy to keep on living in your head and he’s not even paying rent, so it’s about time you kick him out. Fuck a stranger, join a pottery course, climb the _fucking _ Mount Everest for all I care. Whatever you need to do to get rid of him, do it. _ Please_. If you can’t do it for yourself, do it for me because I swear to God- if I have to hear _ one more thing _ about that moldy piece of bread crust, I _ swear to God _ I will _ stab a pigeon!”_

//

[[Harry Styles - From The Dining Table]](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1ZxF_nA1SxQ)

Steve lay on his bed later that day, staring blankly at the ceiling as if it would suddenly light up with the answer to all his problems. He should really be working on his classwork, but it seemed like a lost cause anyway. He was seriously considering to stop going to class altogether and hibernate in his dorm room until the end of the semester so no one would have to lay eyes on the failure that had become of him. 

If anything, he was disappointed in how much he had allowed Billy to take over his life. Robin was right. It had reached a level of absurdity. Three months and he was still sulking over a guy that had most likely moved on already. If anything, that only made it worse. Steve couldn't tell you how many nights he laid awake, wondering if Billy was also up, thinking about him. In the end, he always decided that Billy was probably fast asleep, which made everything hurt just that little bit more. 

And Steve absolutely hated it. He hated that Billy could ruin his life by not being in it. Why couldn't they just swallow their pride and apologize?  
Maybe Billy had noticed something when Steve had failed to. Maybe that's what he meant when he told him 'don't get attached'.

But it simply didn't add up. Steve still had so many unanswered questions and they were not just the questions of the experiment. If he didn't want to get to know Steve better, why had he agreed to do the experiment? Why had he played so compliant? And why the _hell_ did he think it would be a good idea to ask each other for their reasons? How could he be so explosive one moment and completely cold in the next? 

It seemed to Steve as if there were two Billy's: one who taunted, sneered and shouted and another who was quiet, observant and feeling.  
He was Hawkins' resident bad boy, the kind that cares about few things other than his hair. The kind that steals liquor and waters the bottle down with tea. But he worked his ass off to make the college team and who would have guessed that this menace had a soft spot for physics? 

He turned his head to the side. His eyes landed on Billy’s snow hat that had been buried under a bunch of other junk that didn’t have a proper place. It had long lost its place under Steve’s pillow, but he didn't know what else to do with it.   
'Maybe I don't have to get rid of all of you,' He thought. 'Maybe I just need to say goodbye to the parts that I liked.'

//

Billy played differently. Of course, Steve hadn’t been on the basketball team after Billy’s accident so he didn’t know how much of it had been the university training that had changed his style or if he had naturally become a more altruistic player. He was definitely more social in his play, didn’t hog the ball as much. He actually appeared focussed. They were 30 minutes into the training before he even spotted Steve sitting alone at the top of the bleachers. He had slowed down his treads and blinked, his jaw loose. Steve’s heart had screeched when the guy finally locked eyes with him. Yet neither of them moved. He watched quietly how Billy averted his gaze and resumed his play as if nothing had happened. As if Steve wasn’t even there.

And for most of the game, he seemed entirely unaffected by Steve’s presence. Except for the handful of times when Steve caught him glancing his way. Nothing too meaningful. There was no puffed chest or provocative tongue whacking. He simply looked over his shoulder without any heat or venom. Maybe he wanted to see if Steve was still there. Maybe it was to see if Steve was looking at him as well. Then after that quick glance, he’d turn away and disappear into the game again. Imperturbable.

When the coach called the team together for a final few words, Steve got up and started making his way down the bleachers. He took his time, foot plummeting slowly with every step. They locked eyes for a brief moment before billy pretended to listen to the coach again. Steve reached the bottom, just as the boys were dismissed. Billy caught his eye again, but to Steve’s surprise, he turned away and started to walk off in the direction of the changing room. ‘What the hell are you doing?’ Steve thought, heart rabitting in his throat. ‘We didn’t share all that eye contact so that you could just walk away.’

“Billy!” He called. The guy halted his steps. He looked at Steve as if he wasn’t sure whether to turn around or keep walking but when Steve started sauntering his way, he decided to stay where he was. To Steve, it felt like approaching a hostile creature, careful not to scare it away. 

“Hey, erm- I didn’t mean to bother you. It’s just- I still had this.” A look of recognition crossed Billy’s face when Steve revealed the snow hat. “I don’t think you’ll need it much right now, but I figured you might still want it back.” Billy took the hat from Steve’s extended hand. 

“Thanks,” he spoke, a hint of surprise in his tone. “I thought I lost it.”   
“This erm- Max got me this one. I know it’s-“ he rolled his eyes, smiling sheepishly.  
“I guess she gave it to me because it’s a dumb hat, but she asked about it when I was back over Christmas…” he trailed off. There was a few seconds pause before he looked up at Steve.  
“Erm- sorry. You didn’t ask. I don’t know why I just told you all of that-” Steve furrowed his brows. This was… not the reaction he had expected. For sure. Awkward and flustered was not a look he knew from this guy. It certainly didn’t seem like the big bad Billy that Robin was telling him about.

“It’s cool. Don’t fret it.” He shrugged. Billy nodded tightly.

“Yeah, so erm- thanks.” He said, without raising his eyes from the ground. Steve waited to see if he was going to say anything else, but… this seemed to be it.

[[Winterbreak - MUNA]](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lnps91BM-cs)

“Okay,” he muttered. “Erm- I’ll stop bothering you so you can hit the showers and stuff. Good to see you.” He took a step back. 

“Yeah. Yeah, good to see you.” Billy replied, only glancing up briefly to meet Steve’s eyes.  
So… Steve turned around. And he started walking away. And he hoped very much that Billy would call after him, that he would say something, _ anything-_

“Hey erm-” 

Steve stopped walking. He paused to listen before he turned around. Billy still hadn’t moved from his spot. He just stood there, fumbling with the hat in his hand. Somehow he looked smaller from 10 feet away than he had looked from the top of the bleachers. Billy winced, eyes squeezed shut, nose scorned as he spoke again.

“I just wanted to say… I’m sorry. I mean- I know I sorta said that already and- you don’t have to forgive me. That’s not at all why I’m saying this. I just think you deserve to hear it in person.” He ran his tongue over the inside of his teeth as he glanced at Steve through his lashes.  
“Just… really _embarrassed… _ by how I behaved that night." He stammered. "And- and you should know that what I said wasn’t about you... I didn’t mean it. None of that was true.” Steve’s lips disappeared into a tight smile. ‘If it wasn’t true, it wouldn’t have hurt so much,’ he thought. 

“And- I get why you didn’t show up. It’s cool. I understand. It’s...” Billy paused, looking for words. “Yeah.” He shrugged. “It’s fine. I totally get it.”

Show up?

“I’m sorry, I- I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Steve said a small crease between his brows. Billy frowned. 

“Last year. The quarry.” He said. Steve blinked at him like Billy was talking to him in Latin.  
“Did you get my note?” Billy’s voice had gotten sharper, higher.

“I- I don’t think so...” Steve pulled at his earlobe. Billy glanced away, jaw slowly sinking.  
“What was on the note?” Steve asked. Billy blinked, shook his head, chin tucked to his neck.

“It’s fine- I probably put it in the wrong mailbox or something.” His voice was breathy and hurried. He began to walk in the direction of the changing rooms.

“What was on the note? WHAT’S WITH THE QUARRY?!”

“It doesn’t matter!” Billy shouted before he disappeared into the building.

Steve stood stunned for a moment or two before the realization came crashing in like the ball Billy had dunked in his face during the school championships.

The envelope.   
The letter Robin had shown him all those months ago.   
It must have been in there. And he threw it away.

// 

“What the hell are you doing?” Robin leaned against the doorframe of Steve’s bedroom, a bag of Cheetos in her hand.  
Steve was bent over his trash can, sifting through the different items. This might just be the only time it could work in his favor that he only emptied his trash once or twice a year.

“Looking for something.” He said without looking up.

“I thought you were clearing it out so you could go live in there.” 

“Uhu,” Steve mumbled absentmindedly while he threw some plastic wrappers to the side.

“Because you’re trash. The joke is that you are trash and belong in the trash can.” Robin explained.

“Thanks for clarifying.” 

“Welcome.” Robin grinned, popped another Cheeto in her mouth and wandered off.

After digging through a few layers of unread research papers and candy wrappers, he hit the shredded ball of paper that had long started falling apart into loose pieces. He grabbed the envelope and looked inside.

Empty.

Shit. Had it fallen out?

He sifted through the mess until his eyes fell on one of the chunks of paper. There was writing on it. Handwriting. Steve snatched it from the floor.

‘_ a lot about how_  
_-ink that you’re  
__ what I’m trying to’ _

He flipped the piece around. There was print on the other side.   
  
On the back.  
He had written his note on the back of the experiment and Steve had been too pissy to even look. 

Like a madman, he started to pull the all shreds out of the bunch and swiped the rest of the trash to the side. At first, he tried to puzzle the handwritten pieces together but soon found it to be nearly impossible. The writing was not quite illegible, but not by far clear enough to see where the pieces should fit together. So instead, Steve started to connect the printed sides and once those were as completely as they ever would be, he flipped them around, piece by piece, until the note slowly revealed itself.

** [[dodie - Sick Of Losing Soulmates]](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8qGFAkyfjDU) **

There was no intro, no hello or opener to note. It just started.

  1. _ If you were going to become a close friend with your partner, please share what would be important for him or her to know?_

Steve cupped his hand over his mouth. His eyes ran down the pages. All the questions from 27 down to 36 were on there.

Billy had completed the experiment for him. 

  1. _ If you were going to become a close friend with your partner, please share what would be important for him or her to know?_

_ You should probably know that I kill everything I touch, although I feel like you might already know that about me. _

_ If we’re going to be friends, which at this point I don’t deem very likely, you should know that I get mad a lot and when I do I have a tendency to say things I don’t mean. I become a real pain in the ass. Again, it’d be pretty impressive if you didn’t know that by now. I promise I’m trying to fix it, but speaking from experience, as my friend you’d have to put up with a lot of shit. _

  1. _ Tell your partner what you like about them; be very honest this time, saying things that you might not say to someone you’ve just met._

_ I like how much you mean the things you say. I can tell that you worry a lot about how you say things and whether people are going to understand you or think that you’re not smart but you always mean what you say and you don’t compromise on that. You're not scared to be earnest._ _I guess that’s what I’m trying to do right now. _

  1. _ Share with your partner an embarrassing moment in your life._

_ In middle school, I was the school mascot. So before a game, I went into the stalls to change into the costume, but when I got out I discovered that I’d walked into the opposing teams'locker room. They chased me out onto the field until they tackled me to the ground and I was covered in mud for the rest of the game. _

Steve laughed wetly. Who knew that Billy Hargrove had even been anything other than the star player?

  1. _ When did you last cry in front of another person? By yourself?_

_ In front of someone else: graduation  
_ _ By myself: today _

  1. _ Tell your partner something that you like about them already._

_ Already did this and I'm not indulging you any further. _

Steve laughed.   
But Billy had drawn an arrow to something written vertically in the margins:

_ I like that you seem to have this magical ability to get along with anyone you meet. I haven’t met a single person here who doesn’t like you. Kindness seems to come very natural to you and I envy that. _

_ You’re very patient. Especially with kids. I don’t know how you do it because I absolutely can’t stand them. _

  1. _ What, if anything, is too serious to be joked about?_

_ Nothing. Life is a joke. _

  1. _ If you were to die this evening with no opportunity to communicate with anyone, what would you most regret not having told someone? Why haven’t you told them yet?_

_ I would want to remind Max that all the things I told her were not about her and that she never did anything to deserve the way I treated her. I’ve already told her, more than once, but I would regret not saying it often enough. And I know that it’ll never be enough. You can’t undo shit like that. _

Another note was scribbled in the margins.

_ I’d also want to apologize to you for what happened at the end of our game. And for the time I beat you up and for not setting the alarm right. I did set it. Just an hour too late. I never got the chance to say that. I’m sorry that you were late for class. _

Steve bit his lip, choking back the tears as he moved on to the next page.

  1. _ Your house, containing everything you own, catches fire. After saving your loved ones and pets, you have time to safely make a final dash to save any one item. What would it be?_

_ My journals. _

  1. _ Of all the people in your family, whose death would you find most disturbing? Why?_

_ Either Max or my mom. Max because she’s such a bright young woman and it’d be a shame if she could never reach her full potential, my mom for more selfish reasons. _

‘That’s not selfish,’ Steve thought as he sniffed. ‘It’s not selfish to want a mom.’

  1. _ Share a personal problem and ask your partner’s advice on how he or she might handle it. _

_ So I don’t know if you know this about me, but I used to be a bit of a dicknugget. _

Steve laughed and planted his face in the carpeting. Why was he like this?

_ Some might argue that I still am. _

‘Oh, I could name you a few,’ Steve thought, smiling as he continued to read.

_ I’m not proud of it, but you know. These things happen. _

_ I’ve been trying really hard not to be a dicknugget. I try to be nice and patient with people. I try to be someone who’s hard-working and reliable. I try to repair relationships that I’ve damaged in the past. And some days I think it’s paying off and I almost like who I am (emphasis on almost). _

_ But there’s this one guy. I used to know him back when I was a dicknugget. And I don’t know what it is but when I’m with him it’s like I lose all the progress I have made and I’m back in that bad place again. He’s not the problem. He’s a good egg, but I keep falling back into old habits whenever he’s around. It’s like the only way I know how to talk to him is to bug him until he gets sick of me. _

_ So when he came to my door with an experiment game type of thing that was supposed to make us closer, it secretly made me really happy because I felt like maybe he saw something in me that I hadn’t been showing him up until then. It made me believe that he also wanted our relationship to be better. Maybe he even believed that I could be more than a shithead to him. It was hard at first to open up and let my guard down, but he’s got a very calming, genuine presence. And he’s also really funny which helps with a lot of things. I think you’d really like him. _

Steve smiled through his tears. The way Billy talked about him made him feel like maybe he would.

_And then near the end, I royally fucked up because of course I did. I scare myself in those moments. Sometimes I think that some of that Thing is still inside me. I do things I don’t want to do. I get angry and I can’t control myself. It’s like something is taking over and all I can do is watch. _

_ I really want to be better, for the people around me. I don’t want to be like my dad. I want to be someone that I can be proud of. And I guess someone that my mom would be proud of. _

_ I don’t know if I should keep trying or if maybe this is just who I am. Maybe I just can’t keep anyone around. I’m starting to feel like maybe it’s better for both of us if I leave this guy alone. _

_ But a more selfish part of me wants to keep him around. I feel like he understands certain parts of me that others just can’t possibly empathize with. It’s nice to feel understood, even if you’re not liked. _

_ I know you and I will both be in Hawkins for the break. Maybe if you feel like giving me another chance that I don’t deserve you could tell me how you’d solve this riddle. _

_ I have a place I like to go to when I want to be alone and think. It’s a little nook down at the Sattler Quarry. I’ll be there at 9 on December 30th if you feel like talking. _

The first sob broke past Steve’s lips. 

December 30th. 

Billy had tried to make amends three months ago and Steve hadn't even bothered to turn the pages around. 

//

“Hey, where are you going?” Robin said when Steve stormed into the living room and started rummaging around for his sneakers. He practically tripped over his own toes, trying to get them on.  
“Dinner’s almost ready.” 

“I’ll be back soon,” Steve breathed as he finally landed his whole foot in his shoe. “Save some for me?” Robin came out of the kitchen, wooden spoon in hand. 

“What’s going on- hey, have you been crying?” Steve ducked his face to try and hide the evidence.

“I’m fine.” He wasn’t crying anymore, but it still sounded rather unconvincing.

“You went to see Hargrove, right?" She said, concern lacing through her voice. "How’d it go?” 

“I don’t have time to explain. If you want answers... they are on my floor.” Robin raised her eyebrows at him. It wasn't the first time Steve had been a cryptic drama queen. She was used to dealing with him at this point.

“Very edgy. I’m serious, Steve. Why are you acting like this?” 

“I have to talk to him.” Steve got up to get his coat. Robin followed him into the hallway.

“No? No, you’re not. Because you just did that. You’re staying here and you’re going to eat dinner. We can talk about what happened, but you're not going to see him right now.”

'You're the last person I want to talk to right now,' Steve thought as he turned around and zipped his coat up.  
“Robin, it's just- there’s new information and I need to talk to him.” 

“_Steve_,” Robin snapped with the looming glare of a mother who is trying to keep her kid from licking from a knife. “Look at me.” He looked at her.  
She took a deep breath and spoke very calm, but intently.  
“I understand that you’re very emotional and this might feel like the most important thing in the world right now, but you need to calm down. Whatever you found out can _w__ait._ We can talk about it, we can go take a look at whatever it is you have on your floor but you’re not running off to him.” Steve took a step towards the door.  
“Steve.” She pointed the ladle at him with a glare that predicted imminent doom. He put his hand on the doorknob.  
“If you walk out that door you’re fucking _ dead _ to me.” In one swift moment, Steve opened the door, swung himself outside and pulled it shut behind him with a loud bang. The spoon hit the door with a dull thud. 

“FUCK!”

//

Steve's lungs were burning up by the time he made it to Billy’s door. He hadn't run this fast since Tommy H. thought it would be a good idea to throw grapes at his neighbor's Pitbull.  
It took only a few seconds before the door opened and Billy appeared in the frame, dressed in a tank top and jogging pants. His hair was still damp. 

** [[the 1975 - 102]](https://soundcloud.com/voraporn-kankloy/the-1975-102-acoustic) **

“Steve,” There was a mild concern in his tone. “Long time no see.” Outside the sky was slowly fading into darkness. The hallway was cold as always but not enough to make Steve shiver.

“Hey, I- I just found your note,” Steve explained. He wanted to say more, but completely forgot what it was that he wanted to say now that he was here and Billy was staring back at him, expectantly. He tried to connect the handwriting to the face, to envision Billy three months ago, flipping the experiment pages around and starting to write on the backside in the hope that they could somehow still fix this.

“I- I’m so sorry,” Steve whispered as he shook his head. “I just- I would have come. If I’d known, I would have been there. Truly.” Billy nodded, eyes cast down. 

“I mean… I wouldn’t feel guilty if I were you.” Billy said with a modest shrug. “Yeah, it wasn’t fun to sit there by myself and slowly realize that you weren’t coming, but it really got me thinking. Just- about my life since the accident and who I wanted to be and… maybe calling it a wake-up call is a bit much but erm-” He chewed his cheek.   
“I’m back in therapy." He said it as if it was a question. As if he was saying: ‘I’m doing okay! … Right?’ 

“Oh!” Steve said. He forgot to close his mouth.

“Yeah, it’s- been good. I’m mostly talking about my dad, you know. Things that happened before we moved here. All the-” he barked up a small laugh, “All that_ good traumatic childhood _ ** _shit_**_._” In a way, Steve was just grateful to watch Billy's face move as he talked. To see the freckles pop up on the guy's cheeks as the summer strolled in. It didn't even matter what he was saying. Just the sight of him comforted Steve in a way that he couldn't explain. 

“Cool,” Steve immediately wanted to smack himself in the face. ‘Cool’? Really? 

“So- honestly I should thank you for standing me up. In a weird way, it’s been really helpful.” Steve felt an odd pang of not quite guilt. It felt more like jealousy, although he didn’t know _who _or _what _he would be jealous of. Billy’s therapist? Maybe some part of him wanted to be the only person who could help Billy, which was idiotic because he wasn’t even sure if he’d been able to help Billy in the first place, let alone be the only one he would need. If anything he was just frustrated with himself that he had missed so much in three short months. This Billy already felt entirely different from the one he shared a rooftop with.

“Do you still want me to answer your question?” Steve asked. Billy looked at him with confusion.

“What question?” 

“The- the last question from the list. We had to ask each other for advice.”

“Oh!” Billy furrowed his brow but shook his head.  
“No, I think...” He sighed. “I don’t even remember what I asked, but- I guess if I don’t remember, it can’t be all that important.” The papercuts on Steve’s heart tore out to full-blown gashes. 

“Sure...” He whispered and tried to ignore the oozing in his chest. 

“But erm- good to know that you don’t hate me all the way.” A lopsided grin stretched across Billy’s face. He held his hand out to Steve.  
“Friends?” Steve stared at Billy’s extended hand.

‘This is what you wanted, right?' a little voice inside his head said. 'He apologized. He wants to be friends again. This is what you were hoping for.’  
‘I’m not sure it is,’ Steve thought as he shook Billy’s hand and gave the guy his best fake smile.

“Friends.” They dropped their hands. Billy immediately brought his back to his pockets. He rubbed his socked foot on the threshold and mumbled: 

“Cool.” But it didn’t sound all the convincing. Was he lying or was Steve just hearing what he wanted to hear?   
“Hey, erm- I better get going,” Billy said after a few beats of silence. “I have some reading left to do, but I guess I’ll see you around.” 

“Yeah, sure.” Steve struggled to hide the notes of disappointment in his voice. Billy was about to close the door when Steve said:

“D’aah- wait!” Billy stopped, an inquisitive look in his eyes. 

“I erm- I also wanted to apologize.” Steve’s voice went up as the sentence went on. “Because- in your note, you said that one thing you like about me is that I’m always honest and- I wasn't that night. When you asked for my reason- the reason why I didn’t see us being together. I didn’t mean that either, the stuff about Lucas and-” he shook his head. “I mean, sure. It's not like those are your best qualities but those weren't the reasons why. I just panicked and I said some dumb stuff." 

“Sounds like we both know to poke where it hurts.” Billy chuckled sheepishly. Steve waited for Billy to ask him what the real reason was. But he didn’t say anything. He just stood there with one hand on the door, expression unreadable. And Steve felt like being stupid. He knew full well that what he was about to say could ruin everything all over again, but he had been sitting on his hands for three months and now finally, here he was in front of Billy and the words were burning on his tongue. 

“When we first started and you said that we would never work together.” He swallowed. “I felt like you didn’t care whether it was me or literally _anyone else._ Like- if it had been anyone else, literally any guy or girl at any point we hooked-up, it would have been the same for you.” Steve watched the crease between Billy’s eyebrows grow. “And… erm- I- I was fine with that. I _ am _fine with that when it’s just sex, but… call me a sap if you want, but if I’m gonna be with someone, I want to feel chosen. I don’t want to be that most convenient pick or the first person to say ‘yes’. I want them to want _ me specifically _.”

Steve's heart was spasming to the beat of a morse code message. ‘Just say it,’ Steve pleaded. ‘I’ve already picked you. Now please, _ please _ pick me back.” 

Billy’s Adam's apple bobbed. He brought a hand to his face and let it slide from his mouth down to his chin.

“It’s probably good... that we remind ourselves why this was a bad idea in the first place.” He spoke slowly, avoiding Steve’s eyes. And Steve wanted to scream because this was not what he was supposed to say. They were supposed to be _kissing _right now. He was supposed to tell Steve that he was the only boy for him. And how special and irreplaceable he was, but Billy did none of that. Steve only had one question on his mind (why), but he asked another one. 

“So what was your reason?” He just managed to ask before Billy closed the door. Billy stared, only to look away just before he answered.

“You’ve just got way higher standards than me and we’d just get annoyed at each other.” And then he shut the door.

[[Daniel Dobbs - I Can’t Leave You Alone]](https://soundcloud.com/danieldobbsmusic/i-cant-leave-you-alone-d-side)

//

“I told you! I fucking told you to wait so don’t come running to me now that he’s kicked on your feelings again!” Robin yelled from the kitchen. She dropped another plate into the sink, splashing dishwater onto the floor. Not that she seemed to give a damn.

“I don’t know if you remember, but this is _ my _ dorm as well, okay?” Steve yelled back. “I didn’t come running to you. I just came _home_. Geez.” He took another bite from his macaroni.

“Well, you’re sad, aren’t you?” When shouted that sentence didn't sound quite as caring as it might have otherwise. Steve bit his cheek as he poked his food. Robin had already had dinner without him. He did sort of tell her not to wait up, but whenever he had to sit by himself at the dinner table, he was always overcome with this looming sense of emptiness, a kind of hunger that could not be stilled with food. He never saw it coming, but it would be there every time.

“Yeah, I’m sad!” He yelled, frowning as he spooned pasta into his mouth. 

“See?” Robin shouted. “_You’re _sad and _ I’m _ angry at you, which makes me a bad roommate, which is why I’m angry with you! If you had just _listened_, you _wouldn’t _have been sad, _ I _wouldn’t have been angry and I wouldn’t have been a bad roommate! This is all your fault!” It would have been funny if Steve didn’t know that she was using humor to cover up the fact that she was actually quite upset with him. He’s never heard someone angrily do the dishes before, but this seemed like the real thing. 

And she was right. Steve should have known better than to run off to Billy the second he found even the smallest reason to. He should have known that Billy wasn’t going to sweep him off his feet. He should have known that he was setting himself up for disappointment. Then again, Steve couldn’t recall the last time he made a sound life decision, so this really shouldn't come as a surprise to anyone. 

“You were right and I was wrong,” Steve called, but with less heat behind it this time. He listened for a reply, but only heard the sound of plates clanging together. 

“I’m a dumbass and I did a dumb thing and you shouldn’t have to change your evening plans to comfort me.” Robin sighed as she pulled out a chair on the other side of the table.

“Yeah, but that’s the thing. I’m still going to.” She gave Steve a look of surrender. 

“Yeah, I know.” Steve glanced down at his plate. 

“I just don’t get it!” Robin reclined in her chair, arms crossed. “_Why _him? Out of anyone on this campus- on this _ earth_. Why did it have to be him?” Steve shook his head.

“If only I could tell you that...” His appetite had gone away. Although he was still hungry, he simply couldn’t stand the thought of putting food into his mouth.

“He just… I don’t know. I get this feeling when I’m around him. I can’t explain it. It’s just something you know.” He could tell that Robin wanted to say something. The only thing that surprised him was that it took her so long to spit it out.

“I think,” Robin finally said. “That the main reason you’re considering him is that you don’t like being alone.” Steve dropped his fork.

“Yes Robin, I get it. I’m pathetic. Tell me something I don’t know.” 

“I didn’t say you were pathetic-”

“Because you don’t have to.” Steve bit back. “I’m not stupid, you know? You think I’m a fucking idiot because I’m still pining after this guy.” He got up and dumped the rest of his cutlery on his plate. “If you actually cared you would have asked me why I’m so hung up on him instead of- mocking me any time his name comes up.”

“_Of course _I care!” Robin yelled.

“_No__!”_ Steve laughed, plate still in hand. _ “You don’t! _Because since the moment I told you about him, you've only ever been opposed! You’ve never tried to see things from my perspective-”

“I'm trying to do that right now! I'm trying to understand-"

“No, you don’t!” The conversation was becoming more and more heated. “Because- If you really wanted to understand, you’d actually _listen _rather than wait for a moment to make a yap or a joke out of me! Have you ever stopped to think how fucking _shitty_ I feel every time you put him down? _I get that. _I _get_ that he did all these horrible things. I'm not _daft._ I _know_ all the reasons why I should hate him, but you know, maybe I also have actual reasons to like him! But it's not like you wanna hear about those." He took a few steps in the direction of the kitchen before he spun back around. "I mean- You wouldn't be asking me 'why did it have to be him?'. That's not something you ask when you actually want an answer. You haven’t even asked what happened, for fuck's sake! You just _ assume _ everything!”

“Fine!" Robin threw her hands up "Tell me! What did he do?”

“_He said that he wants to be friends!_”

The room turned dead silent. Now it was Steve’s turn to throw Robin a mocking glare.

"I know, he's a horrible person. Clearly none one less than the devil himself." Robin shook her head, mouth gaping.

“Friends?” She chuckled lowly. “He wants to be _ friends? _Are you serious?” 

“_How is that possible a bad thing?” _Steve cried.

"He writes you one shitty manipulative letter and now he thinks he can ask you to be friends again?" The snark was dripping from her voice while she followed him into the kitchen.   
“Did he specify what kind of friends? Are you going to go straight back to fucking him now?” Steve ignored the question, mostly because he didn’t have an answer for her. He didn’t know if ‘friends’ had meant just that or if it had been a foot behind the door to ensure the possibility of future hook-ups.

"So you found the note, I'm guessing," he said as he put his plate down and turned the tap on. _ Shit _that water was still fucking boiling.

"If you mean that shredded piece of trash on your floor, then yes. I think we're talking about the same thing."

"And you're saying it was manipulative?" Robin glared at Steve’s back.

"Yes," She said slowly. "And the fact that you don't, proves that it worked. And that _worries _ me." Steve rolled his eyes and Robin nearly lost her shit. 

"Okay, let's backtrack for a second, yeah?" She spat. "He's going _on and on _ about how s_orry _and _worthless _he is and how he doesn't deserve your forgiveness or another chance- It’s fucking manipulative. He’s trying to play victim so you’ll feel bad and come running back to him and that worst part is that it _ fucking worked! _"

"Okay, but get this," Steve interrupted while he turned around and rested his back against the edge of the countertop. "Maybe he apologized... because he's sorry." Steve gasped and gestured as if his brain exploded. "Because sometimes people actually do tha-" 

“No, Steve." There was an unnerving quiver in Robin's voice. "It’s fucking bullshit. He’s making all these promises that he’s going to be better that he’s never intended to keep because that’s how people like him lure nice people like you into abusive relationships! _ Of course _he’s nice to you because he can sense that you want validation and that makes you vulnerable to those kinds of people!”

“Yeah? And when did you become the expert in this?” Steve bellowed.

“BECAUSE IT FUCKING HAPPENED TO ME!” Robin screeched. 

Steve's expression fell. He stared wide-eyed as Robin broke down into tears and he knew he fucked up. 

“Robin, I’m so sorry-” He whispered. 

"It's fine," she breathed as she wiped under her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt. "It was a long time ago." She took a deep trembling breath as she wound her arms around herself. “I mean, we were 15. It probably doesn’t even count-” 

“Come here,” Steve whispered and pulled her in for a hug. Every single one of her hiccups felt like a slap in the face. He could about strangle himself. He should have known that there was something in Robin’s past. It explained why it had taken her such a long time to trust Amber. Why she had been so highly critical of Billy when Steve first told her about him. It was true that she hadn't listened to him the way he wanted her to, but maybe he should have paid more attention as well.

“Do you want to tell me what happened or do you want to let it go?” Steve whispered. Robin sighed into his shoulder. 

“There’s not much of a story there… She was just… very jealous. Didn’t want me to spend time with anyone else and if I did she would ignore me for days on end. I was always scared that I’d upset her.” She exhaled. Steve held and swayed her gently while the plate sat forgotten in the sink, tap still dripping in the background.

“The worst part was that I couldn’t talk to anyone about it, because she was the only other gay person I knew, so...” Her breath hitched. “I just didn’t know that it _wasn’t supposed to be like that_-” Steve squeezed her tighter as a new wave of sobs rippled through her.

“It’s okay,” he said. “You got out. And you have me and Amber now.” Robin laughed through her tears. 

“The only reason we broke up was that her dad got a job in Colorado.” She mumbled. After a while she pulled back, eyes cast down as she wiped away her tears. Steve rubbed her arms as she found her breath.

“Okay?” He asked. Robin nodded. 

“Maybe I’m just projecting ...” She started. Steve couldn’t help but snort. ‘Projecting’. Another one of those beautiful words Amber had taught them. “... but I would just hate for the same to happen to you. And it just fucking hurts to watch you run off to him and give yourself away so easily.” The words stung more than any insult, because yeah, she was right.   
“And I know I’ve been an asshole to you about it.” Robin choked. “But don’t you see that I call bullshit because I _ fucking care _about you and I don’t want you to get hurt?” 

“I see that now,” Steve whispered as he pulled her in for another hug. 

“I just couldn't sit back and watch you make all the same mistakes that I did and- I know I didn't go about it the right way and I'm sorry. I just- I don’t want you to settle for someone who’s not even going to appreciate what a great guy you are,” Robin whispered into his shoulder. “You deserve so much better than that.”

//

After their fight, Steve decided that he needed to let Billy rest for a while. Or at least, that he should set boundaries for himself. Sure, Billy had apologized but he hadn't proven anything yet. Now was not the time to dive into the deep end. Maybe at some point, he could ease himself back into the shallow waters. But at least for now, he would stay at the shore. In the meantime, Billy had made just as many advances to cash in on their newfound friendship. Steve was beginning to think that he might have intended 'friends' as more of a truce than an invitation for actual friendship. While Steve tried his best to let his mind be occupied by other things, he still had another friend who was in the know about his attempt to return Billy's hat. And she too wanted to know the story.

“So then what did he say?” Amber asked when Steve had finished recounting.

“He said that ‘I have way higher standards than him and we’d just get annoyed at each other’.” Steve scoffed. “What the hell does that even _mean? _” Amber rolled her head back.

“You _ know _ that’s just his ego talking, right?” Steve let go of a tortured sigh

“Amber, I’m beginning to feel like I don’t know a first thing about this guy.” He said as he shook his head slowly. Amber wore that distant wistful look over her that Steve knew as her seeing a color that he appeared to be blind to. 

“Steven. Most people, when they have to come up with a reason not to enter a relationship, it boils down to: 'I don’t have those kinds of feelings for you'. Has it - perchance - occurred to you that neither one of you has taken up that line of argument?"

“No," Steve replied, quite firmly this time. "and that’s not something I have to think about, because I’ve thought about it - long and hard - and I’ve decided that I like girls. It’s easier, you can’t get arrested for it and they have boobs. And I _ like _boobs.”  
In all fairness, Steve made a compelling point.

“Steve.” Amber’s voice wavered. “You know bisexuality is a thing, right?” Steve paused, then leaned in, forearms on his tights and spoke in a hushed tone:  
“Okay, I need to ask you something, but you have to promise not to laugh, okay?” Amber hiked up one brow and smirked.

“Sure...” She chuckled nervously. Steve bit his lips, his eyes narrowed to slits. 

“Are giraffes real?” He asked, just above a whisper. Amber’s face contorted as she struggled to hold a laugh down.

“Yes, Steve. They are.” Steve threw himself back in his chair. Well fuck. If giraffes were real, that opened up a whole load of new possibilities. Maybe shampoo and soap were actually two different things. Maybe they would send a rocket to Mars. Maybe it's possible to like both boys _and_ girls.

“I am so confused.” Amber giggled. “Why wouldn't giraffes be real?” 

“They look like dinosaurs!” Steve protested.

“NO idiot! They look like horses with long necks so they can eat leaves!”

“Yeah, _like that one dinosaur_!”

“Have you never been to a zoo?”

“**OF COURSE I’VE BEEN TO A ZOO**! WHAT KIND OF **UNCULTURED SWINE** DO YOU TAKE ME FOR?” Amber cackled with laughter, slowly slipping out of her seat. Steve was a lot less amused.

“How did we get from your crush on Billy to giraffes?” Amber hiccuped.

“It doesn’t matter! I don’t want to have a crush on him! I’m willing it out of existence!” 

“Steve,” Amber cooed, “Listen to me, you said that you didn’t want to be with Billy because he wouldn’t choose you specifically.”

“Yes?” Steve said.

“But you also said that he hasn’t been fucking anyone else because he prefers to have sex with you because he feels more comfortable around you.”

“Yes.”

Amber waited for him to connect the dots. As the silence drew on, she became uncertain of whether he really didn’t see what she was getting at or if he was simply too stubborn to seriously consider her point.

“I think you should give it a try.” Amber shrugged and reclined in her chair. Steve fumbled with his lip. 

“Robin thinks it’s a bad idea,” Steve mumbled. 

“Of course she does," Amber replied. "She’s a pessimist. That girl wouldn’t recognize a half-full glass if she ever saw one.” Was she though? Maybe she was just a realist. Although he liked Amber's advice better, there was a lot of history with Billy that she simply didn't know about. And he couldn't possibly begin to explain. But then again, did it matter? Billy was already so different in college than he was in Hawkins. And Steve didn't know what that therapist was doing to Billy but he seemed quite different from the guy he had shared half a bottle of whiskey and a rooftop with back in December. 

Steve went down the list of terrible things he'd done. Of course, he'd been a menace back in Hawkins, but that seemed kind of irrelevant at this point. He'd treated Steve more like a toy than a person while they were hooking up. It stung pretty badly when he kicked Steve out after he practically begged him to stay over the night before. And of course, there was everything he had said during their fight on the roof. 

But he had apologized for most of that stuff. At least he knew he had been a dicknugget. Did that mean that he deserved another shot?

“Okay, be honest...” Steve said. “Do you think I deserve better?” 

“Of course you do,” Amber stated matter-of-factly. “We all deserve better. You deserve someone who can keep their temper and who makes you feel like the most special person in the world. I deserve a girlfriend who will let me finish a sentence and that doesn’t hang the toilet paper facing the wall.” Steve shuddered. “Robin deserves a girlfriend who doesn’t forget that she exists when said girlfriend has a big assignment due.” She stared past Steve with wistful eyes.

“But in the end... you can't change your type. The heart wants what it wants.”

//

[[I like (the idea of) you - Tessa Violet]](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oQyFFTh_YGc)

_ The heart wants what it wants_. Steve thought the next day while he walked to class.  
_ I deserve better_. He thought when he went back home. No new knowledge was absorbed in the meantime. No new thoughts were thought. 

Maybe Robin was right. Maybe he was doing exactly what he told himself he wouldn’t do: settle for the first person who might want him, who showed him any kind of affection. 

_ I deserve better_. He thought while he handed in his final paper.   
_ The heart wants what it wants. _He thought while he saw Billy dribble across the field.   
_ I deserve better. So why do I still show up for every game? _

“Harrington!” Steve was about to leave when he turned around to see a familiar face standing at the foot of the bleachers. He smiled and began hopping down the stairs.

“Hey man, good game!” Steve said when he finally reached the bottom. Billy gave him a weird look.

“We lost.” Steve blinked and let out a nervous chuckle. 

“Right, yeah. Of course, but erm-” But Billy’s smile shut him up. It had a way of doing that. 

“It’s fine. Don’t worry,” he said. If only Steve could live by that advice.

Steve felt the note burning in his pocket. ‘Come on, coward.’ He told himself. ‘You’ve been walking around with this for a month now. It’s now or never.’ 

“I got something.” He said. His hand was surprisingly steady while he took the piece of paper out of his pocket.   
“I thought since I’m probably not going to see you all that much after this - you know since I’m leaving and you probably don’t want to be anywhere near Hawkins - we should end this in style.” 

“What’s this?” Billy asked as Steve handed him a folded piece of paper. He hadn’t taken it yet.

“My answers,” Steve explained. “For set 3.” There was a seconds pause before Billy reached out, took the note and slipped it in his pocket.

“So this was your last game?” He chirped.

“Seems like it.” Steve nodded with a fat smile. 

“Thanks for coming,” Billy said and to Steve’s surprise, he opened his arms. Before Steve fully realized what they were doing, he did the same and they- hugged. It was brief. Not more than a quick touching of chests and a pat on the back, but it was a more intimate greeting than they had ever shared. Billy smelled of fresh sweat and gym shoes and something else that Steve couldn’t place as anything but just- uniquely him. The guy offered him one last smile before then turned around in the direction of the locker room. 

“Maybe I’ll see you around this summer,” Steve called, a little louder than he intended. Billy glanced over his and grinned.

“If you’ll still be hanging out around the losers kids, I’m sure you will.” And he actually winked before he walked away.

//

  1. _Share a personal problem and ask your partner’s advice on how he or she might handle it._

_ So there’s this guy. He’s a bit of a shithead. He can be pretty cocky and self-righteous but if you look past that, I think he’s actually a really kind, genuine person behind all that armor. And he also looks really hot with his shirt off (which is not not important). _

_ We fooled around for a while and we agreed to be friends but I’m starting to think that I might actually like him - like a lot. I still don’t know how it’s possible that I caught feelings for this guy since I used to think that he was the worst person who ever set foot on this earth but I’ve recently discovered that in Africa, there are animals that have a 6 feet long neck and black tongues and that the male of this species will head-butt a female so she pees a little and then he will _ _ drink _ _ that pee to _ _ taste _ _ if she’s in baby-make season. _

_So I guess that if you take that into consideration, me liking this guy might not even be the craziest thing that has ever happened on this earth _

_ Either way, I still don’t know exactly what it is that I feel for him but it’s definitely something. _

_My friend seems to think it’s a bad idea because there’s a lot of history between me and this guy. Another friend says that it at least warrants a shot.  
_

_Both care about me and want me to be happy. I just don’t know who to listen to. My head or my heart.  
What do you think? _

_ (PS: you’re gonna love this, but apparently all giraffes are bisexual and 90% of all giraffe love is between boy giraffes. I know I would pick a guy over a girl if banging girls meant I had to drink their pee.) _

//

“Steve, you’re not leaving without the juice press!” Robin called. Steve whined at the sight of the monstrosity she carried out of their dorm room. 

“You can keep it! I never use it.” He insisted.

“Yeah, but neither do I and it’s taking up half the kitchen counter, so you’re taking it with you.” Steve rolled his eyes.

“Good luck fitting it in the trunk.” He sighed at his already overloaded BMW. 

“Harrington!” Steve looked over his shoulder, to find Billy jogging down the field. 

“Just a sec,” He said to Robin before he started strolling up to Billy while the other guy slowed down his paces. 

“Hey,” Billy said when he reached Steve, not even slightly out of breath. The constitution on this man, it was infuriating. “You’re leaving today, right?” Steve nodded.

“Yeah, looks a lot like it. Do you happen to be in need of an electric juice press? My parents got it with some kind of membership and handed it down to me, but it’s just been collecting dust.” Billy laughed at the sight of robin turning the thing several ways in a desperate attempt to fit it in with all of Steve's other belongings.

“No thanks, Lyall has the same one I think.” Of course, Steve thought. Lyall is exactly the kind of person who would own a juice press.

“I read your question,” Billy said with a stupid grin slathered on his face. "Thanks for the giraffe trivia." Steve chuckled nervously.

"Right. Glad you liked that part." Billy smiled and pulled the note out of his pocket.

“I thought if you want I could give you the answer before you leave. Just so we can finish what we started.”

“Sure,” Steve said. He planted his hands in his sides as he anxiously tried to recall what he wrote. It had gone through fifty different drafts before he was satisfied, but now he was struggling to remember which version he went with.

“Erm-“Billy's eyes darted everywhere but to Steve. “I’m not really an expert when it comes to romance and stuff, so I talked to my therapist about it.” Steve's heart hitched. “And she says that…” Billy took a deep breath. “It’s easy for nice people to fall for people who are hurting. Especially people who are naturally very caring. But those people can also- _ fail to realize _\- that often times love is not enough to heal trauma. So she thinks that your friend should wait off a bit before he starts to think seriously about pursuing this person and that he should let them do some healing on their own.” Billy fumbled with his hands, his expression tense.   
“I don’t know if that answers your question...” He said timidly. Steve ducked his head and nodded.

“I think it does.” At least Billy had been clear. At least this was closure. Maybe his therapist was right and it was better this way. 

“So I guess that was the experiment.” Steve slapped his thighs.

“Erm, not really.” Billy replied, “Officially speaking, we still have to stare into each other’s eyes for four minutes.” Steve furrowed his eyebrows.

“We what?” He couldn't tell whether Billy was making a joke or not.

“It's the final assignment. We have to look into each other’s eyes for four minutes. Not allowed to look away.” He explained. Steve glanced back at Robin who was still struggling with the juice press.

"This is part of the experiment?"

"At least in the copy you gave me it was."

"Erm- sure. Okay?" He turned back to Billy. “Can we blink?” Billy snorted.

“Yes, it's not a staring contest.” 

“Okay, erm- How do we tell the time?” Billy looked over his shoulder at the campus clocktower. It was almost 25 past 3 in the afternoon.

“Let’s round it up to five.” He said. “Finish when the clock strikes half.”

“You think you can bare another full minute of staring at me?” Steve teased. It was surprisingly easy to joke around with Billy. Whatever tension had been between them was gone. 

The boys positioned themselves in front of the other, planting their feet. Billy intertwined his fingers. Steve folded his arms behind his back. 

“Ready?” Billy asked while he tracked the long wand of the clock out of the corner of his eye. “... Go!” 

Steve pinned his eyes to Billy's. They managed to make it three full seconds without laughing. 

“Are we allowed to talk?” Steve chuckled.

“It didn’t say anything about talking I think,” Billy replied. They returned to silence after that. 

** [[the 1975 - Me]](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hu0xlyLwK7Q) **

It was strangely intimate to look someone in the eye and not be allowed to look away. Uncomfortable but… exciting in its own rite. It took a few seconds. Then, like a wave rolling over him, Steve was overcome with the feeling that he was meeting Billy all over again. That he had known this face for all his life but only seeing it for the first time.

“I wish I had your eyelids.” He blurted out. Billy cracked up. Little wrinkles popped up at the end of his lashline. 

“That’s the first time anyone has _ever_ said that! To _anyone!"_ He cackled.

“I don’t know!” Steve yelled back, unable to push his own giggles down. 

“You have like- actual eyelids. Mine are not even there. They’re just- ppfflp.” He made a fart noise and pushed his eyebrows down. 

“_You have nice eyelids_,” The giggles didn't make it sound so convincing.

“This is so weird. Why are we talking about this?”

“You brought it up. ”

“I know, I know. I’ll shut up.” 

Steve couldn’t stop his eyes from wandering. From Billy’s tear duct following the curve of his lash line. The shadow of his lashes on his lower eyelids. The little rim of green around his irises.   
Whenever Steve had looked Billy directly in the eyes, he had rarely been this relaxed. Back in Hawkins, he'd always been on edge. Always ready to pick a fight. He really did seem happier here. It looked good on him.

“I don’t think I ever told you, but I like your new glasses,” Billy said after another while.

“Oh, thanks.”

But after that, neither one of them spoke. And somehow they said more than they ever could with words. Steve bit his lip, trying his best to keep his eyes from leaking.

He looked right into the eyes of the boy that had caused him so much heartache. That had made him laugh more than he could remember. The boy that made him look at the stars in a completely different way. 

He tried to memorize his reasons, every single reason why it would never work out. Why he shouldn't get attached. But the heart wants what it wants. 

Steve started to wonder if he had been wasting his time coming up with reasons why they shouldn't when maybe, he should have been thinking in the other direction. 

Billy was the first to wipe a tear away.   
“Shit,” he whispered. 

Steve reached out to squeeze Billy's hand, but once their hands were intertwined, Billy didn't allow him to let go. And Steve was fine with that. 

‘I think it’s working,’ he thought to himself. ‘I don't know how they did it, but I think it's working. I think I love you. I don’t know why or how it happened, but _ fuck _Amber was right about 'actual results'.’ 

And when the clock struck, the boys closed the distance between them and pulled each other into a tight hug. Steve wrapped his arms around Billy’s neck and buried his face in the boy’s hair as if he wanted to move in and live there. He smelled of summer and new beginnings and just- _Billy_ and Steve never wanted to let go.

Iloveyou Iloveyou Iloveyou

Please don't let me leave

“Ay love birds, can you wrap it up? I wanna be home before dinner!” Robin called from where she leaned against the side of the car. The boys startled and pulled apart, acutely aware that they were being watched. 

"Cool, erm-" Steve adjusted his jacket. His first thought was that he missed the warm and pressure Billy's arms around him. He looked at the guy's face and knew that he could easily go in for another four minutes. Make it four hours if you must. 

“Erm- before you go, I...” Billy started. Behind him, Steve could hear a car door open as Robin slid into the passenger seat.

“I thought a lot about what you said, about how you want someone who wants you. Because…” He bit his lip. A tiny bit of hope bubbled up in Steve’s chest.  
“The truth is… I... don’t like myself when I’m with you.” The little laugh at the end spoke volumes.

“Not saying that I don’t like you!” Billy added hastily when he saw the defeated look on Steve’s face. He brushed a curl away that had fallen into his face. His hair was getting long. It was already over his shoulders.  
“It’s- you’re great, it’s just- you know, it’s-” He blew out a big sigh, waited a few seconds before he started over, much slower this time.

“Maybe it’s that you remind me of Hawkins, but I can’t seem to stop being an asshole to you. And- I really wish that we have could have- I don’t know, put the ‘buddy’ in 'fuckbuddies' a year ago and have it not just be ‘hooking up with this guy I know from high school’, but-” His lips twitched, eyes droopy. “The way I treated you over the past year makes me _hate _myself. And- you’re right! I can’t pick you, because_ I can’t even pick myself_. I can barely decide who I wanna be in the morning. And until I can treat you with some fucking dignity, I don’t think you should even want to be near me, because you deserve _so much_ better than the worst of me-” 

Billy could barely finish his sentence before Steve had cupped his cheeks and stifled the words with his lips.

‘I'm done mulling over every last reason why we shouldn't,' He thought as he hiccuped into the kiss. 'Maybe for a change tell me a reason why we should and I'll tell you mine.'

Iloveyou Iloveyou Iloveyou

_Please_ don't let me leave.

But Billy didn’t kiss him back. Steve licked at his lips, to encourage, to open up, to let him in, to show him where it hurts. But Billy didn’t budge. He pulled away and instead pressed his lips to Steve’s forehead. And Steve wanted to scream and kick a wall and set the whole campus on fire because he didn’t want Billy to be careful with him. He just wanted Billy. The good and the bad. Either one was fine. But all the boy did was pull Steve tightly against his chest and while his chin was hooked in Steve’s neck he whispered: “Someday.” He made it sound like a promise. 

He squeezed Steve’s shoulders and pulled back, offering him one last bleary smile before he dropped his arms and jammed his hands in his pockets. 

** [[Lady Gaga - Million Reasons]](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WYRJ-ryPEu0) **

Steve’s throat felt like sandpaper. 

So this is it then? This… This felt like an ending, he realized. 

He took a step back. The corner of Billy’s mouth curled just the slightest bit. He gave Steve a gentle nod as if to say: 'It’s okay. You can leave me behind now.'

Steve swallowed and thought, 'I don’t know if I can.' 

Every pace felt like stretching out an elastic band. Every fiber of his being was pulling him back to where Billy was standing. With every inch, it felt more inevitable that he would launch himself back into the guy’s arms. And still, he made it into the car. He checked the rearview mirror just in time to catch Billy making an army salute. 

“What kinda gross stuff were you guys doing back there?” Robin asked when Steve pulled the seatbelt across his chest.

“Just- science.” He whispered wetly as he turned the ignition. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MAN. So basically, this is the end. It’s *an* ending. There will still be an epilogue after this, but this could be where the story ends and you can imagine for yourself if ‘someday’ ever came. But I, for one, have some thoughts about what happens afterward. ‘Chapter 6: New Beginnings’ will hopefully be up later this month. I’m guessing it’s going to be around the same size as this one. 
> 
> In the meantime, please let me know your thoughts! Let me know if you have any questions! What are you hoping to see next? Chapter six is already pretty set up, but if you've found something, some loose end I didn't think off, I might still find a way to work it into the finale.


	6. New Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Featuring pörkölt, a wall full of meaningless scribbles and a relatively large body of water to anyone who doesn't live near an ocean or a lake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Here it is! The epilogue!
> 
> Man, I'm glad I split 'After' up into two parts because this chapter alone ended up being over 20000 words by itself. It's quite a bit different than the other chapters or at least so I feel. The boys have aged a little bit. I feel like that plays a big part. They're in vastly different stages of their lives. As I was finishing up. I realized that this might not be exactly where people would expect the story to go but right now I can't imagine things happening any other way. 
> 
> Just like in the last chapter, the most important songs will be bolded.  
Thank you for making it this far.

Steve knew it was going to be bad. He just didn’t know how bad it would be. 

“You want to trash your future?” Mr. Harrington barked as he threw the newspaper at his son over breakfast the next morning. “Fine! But Real Life does not wait until the summer ends! It starts _today! _ You’re going to get a job and by the end of the summer you either have a place of your own or you’re on the streets! It's your call!” 

Steve had put off telling his parents about his dropping out for as long as he could, but when he pulled into their driveway in a car that housed practically every single movable item from his dorm room, they had questions that he simply couldn’t subvert. It was a good thing that Robin was there with him because Steve was pretty sure his father would have ended him right then and there if he hadn't had a witness. 

It took him a few days to mellow down (not without the help of Mrs. Harrington) but the point still stood. Now that Steve wasn’t working towards a degree that could land him a job, he had to start working straight away. Not for a few extra bucks, but to support himself. To make a living. Steve realized that he had run out of time to fantasize about what he wanted to be when he grew up. The grown-up world was at his feet, whether he liked it or not. There was nothing to fall back on.

The future had crept up on him like water slowly flooding a room. College had acted like a life vest that had provided him with a false sense of security. Only after he’d taken his floaters off did he realize that the water was already at his chin. Now he was thrown off into the deep end and he had until the end of the summer to learn how to swim - or at the very least how to stay afloat. 

At first, he went back to the video store. It took all but three weeks before Keith had completely driven him up the wall with not just the usual yaps at his drop in social status and inability to pick up girls, but also how the ‘high and mighty college student’ had come crawling back to do retail work. As if Steve had ever boasted to Keith about going off to college. The guy just seemed to whip up reasons to hate him out of thin air.

After turning in his cv at a few local businesses, he managed to land a job at the local firearm store. He lasted five whole days before the owner found out he had completely bullshitted his interview and that his preppy ass had never fired a gun in his life. 

Although the job hunting process was torturous, Steve was glad to have something that could drown out the sound of his missing Billy. Because, surprise surprise, just because Billy had rejected him, did not mean his feelings for the guy had faded. But it’s hard to stay preoccupied with your papercuts when you’re three seconds away from drowning. 

Through Max, he learned that Billy had been accepted into an exchange program at the University of British Columbia. He was taking mandatory admission courses over the summer and wouldn’t be coming home. ‘Poor Billy,’ Steve thought. ‘California boy forced to spend his summer up North.’ But he couldn’t allow himself to dwell on it. Billy had been clear. They wouldn’t work as a couple. Not for now at least. Maybe someday.

He had breathed it in Steve’s ear, like a gentle gush of wind that prevented the door from fully closing. And through that crack shone a smither of hope, a little spark that might reignite the flame.

As the end of the summer was drawing close, Steve was nowhere closer to finding his calling or being about to ‘support himself’. Maybe his dad had loosened up about putting him on the streets, but it didn’t make Steve any less desperate to get out of the house. He had missed his parents while he was at college but living under the same roof as them proved to be a pickle. The scariest thing was that they seemed entirely unchanged from how Steve left them when we went off to college. His dad still smoked his one cigarette with his coffee and his two before bed. His mother used the same exact intonation to ask Steve if it ‘wasn’t time for him to go to bed’. As if he hadn’t been deciding his own bedtime since he was 16. For the first time he could remember, he was grateful when they were out of town for work. The enormous house felt claustrophobic when they were in it. But it wasn’t just the house, though. It was Hawkins. The entire town made him sick. The same, unchanging people in their unchanging houses living unchanging lives. 

“Maybe I should join the army,” he said one night, while he was having dinner at the Henderson’s. Even now that Dustin was no longer in need of a babysitter, Steve still came over for dinner on a semi-regular basis.   
“At least being a soldier will give me some kind of purpose rather than waste away at a dead-end job in a nowhere town.” How Steve went from never firing a gun to wanting to join the army should give you a sense of how desperate he was at this point. Mrs. Henderson gave him a disdainful look.

“You are testing these waters in the wrong household, young man.” She tittered as she helped him to a second serving of ice cream.  
“We’ve lost enough good men to pointless bickering. Good men like you are put to better use in ‘nowhere towns’ like this.” Steve could smack himself with a rake. Of course, he decided to bounce off the idea of joining the military of a woman who lost her husband to war. That was just his style. Steve sighed and poked at his ice cream as it turned soft. He had already eaten more than enough in one sitting and as he was settling into his 20’s and his metabolism was changing, he was beginning to pack on a bit of chub which it really wasn’t helping with his confidence. Just another thing to remind him that he wasn’t going to stay young forever. 

“I know, I just-” He threw his hands up in frustration. “I wish I was _passionate _about something! I wish I had something- anything I was _ good _at!” He reclined in his chair and crossed his arms, glaring at the ice cream as if it were the sole cause of all his misery.

“It’s okay not to know what you want to do for the rest of your life,” Dustin said in his best attempt to be soothing. “I don’t know what I want to be when I grow up either.” Steve had to laugh. It was cute, coming from a kid who was still in high school. For a college dropout with no career prospects? Not so much.

“Yeah, but you have straight A’s and like- a _ dozen _Science Fair trophies under your belt. You’re probably going to be the next Einstein or something.” Steve gruntled. Dustin raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, my trophies are gonna get me _so _far in life. Just you watch. Trust me, no one above the age of 14 gives a crap about those things.” 

“Dusty,” Mrs. Henderson whined as she got up to put the ice cream back in the fridge. “Language!” Dustin seemed entirely unbothered by the scolding. His eyes flickered to Steve’s abandoned desert. 

“Are you gonna finish that?” Steve pushed his serving across the table. He watched enviously as Dustin dug in. The kid had really shot up like a beanstalk in the time that he’d been away. Stupid teenagers with their stupid metabolisms.

“Maybe you just haven’t found the thing you’re passionate about.” Dustin mouthed, a drip of ice cream sliding down his chin. ‘Why are teenage boys so gross?’ Steve thought, ‘Was I this gross- yeah, no I definitely was. God, what did girls see in me?’

“Hm, well I hope my passion finds me soon,” He mumbled, “because I’m kind of done searching.” Mrs. Henderson wandered back into the room, holding a small sheet of paper, about the size of a postcard.

“Couldn’t this be something for you?” She asked as she handed it over to Steve.

‘**_Over the Rainbow  
_**_Hawkins Daycare_

_ Looking for full-time caretakers’ _

Steve looked up at her with bewildered eyes.   
“Looking after babies?” He made it sound as if it physically hurt him to say the words. “Why would you think I’d be good at this? I’ve never done so much as _ hold _ a baby.”

“It’s not just babies.” She explained. “They have kids of all age groups. Well- up to 12 that is. It’s run by one of my friends, Irene. _ Delightful _woman. But they have a problem with staffing because the employees keep having babies of their own. Right now there are three people on maternity leave so they are desperate for some extra hands.”

“Desperate enough to take me on, I see.” Steve let the paper slip out of his hand onto the table. 

“You’re good with kids! You were always amazing with Dusty!”  
“Yeah, but he’s a very _particular _kid. He’s a kid I can vibe with. This-” He gestured at the flyer. “I don’t know. I don’t think I’m the type of guy.” His tone was defeated. Mrs. Henderson nodded with tight lips.

“Take the flyer. Have a think about it. It never hurts to try.”

//

In the end, Steve decided that little harm was done by trying, so he went in for an interview the following week. But as it turns out, trying can hurt a whole lot. 

Irene was a large, dark-skinned woman that brought a sense of comfort and maternity with her the moment she stepped into the room. But rather than put Steve at ease, it made him keenly aware of all the qualities he was lacking. She was also a lot more attentive than the guy from the gun store. Under her gaze, Steve completely lost his ability to improvise. It became rather apparent that he had close to no experience - let alone qualifications - in working with small children. He stumbled over his words, cussed a few times (which can’t have helped his case) and somehow managed to bring up that the concept of breastfeeding _kind of weirds him out_. So when it came to the final question, he had lost all faith that he was going to hear back from this place. 

“What do you think you can contribute to this daycare?” Irene read from her notes before she returned her patient eyes to Steve. He hoped that if he waited long enough, the interview would end itself, vaporate and he could go back home to repress everything for the rest of his life.

“I mean...” he started. “Like- honestly, just being completely transparent- I just need a job...” Irene nodded with a doleful, but understanding smile. Steve continued, “And… I don’t know if I’ll be any good at this. I don’t know if I’m the type of guy you are looking for but…” he blinked before he fully directed himself at her. It might have been the longest eye contact he’s made during the entire interview. “I can promise you that I will- I will give this everything that I‘ve got. I hear the way you talk about these kids and I can just feel that you care- _ so much _about them. And about the _place _and the _parents_. And- I really want to care about something that much. I want to believe in something with my whole heart. I want to feel like I’m giving something meaningful to people.” He paused for a second. “Even if it’s very small people, I guess.” Steve rolled his lips between his teeth, trying to cook up at least one coherent sentence.

“So… I might not know much right now, but- I really want to learn.” 

//

He got the job. 

Mrs. Henderson must have put in a good word for him because there was no other explanation after how fiercely he tanked that interview. He would start on Monday, shadowing the other caretakers, changing his first diapers and blending up his first fruit snacks. 

And he kept his promise. He really tried. But it became clear quite early one that he was not a baby’s man. Sure, they were sort of cute when they were giggling and playing, but as soon as they let out the first cry, Steve panicked, which - in turn - alarmed the baby. It often started in a vicious circle of terror, which usually ended in both Steve and the baby crying for their mother. Irene kept insisting that it was a good thing that Steve was so affected by the baby’s distress because it meant that he cared. But after a few days, it became too emotionally exhausting and they decided to transfer him to another group. 

Steve might have failed to charm the infants, but when he was put on the pre-school team, it was as if everything fell into place. Toddlers and kids had their own challenges. They were a lot more demanding. Whereas you can put a baby down on a playmat and let them entertain themselves until they get either hungry or poopy, Steve found that once the little kids liked him, they would not leave him alone. He didn’t quite understand it at first. He didn’t do anything special. He was just nice to them and handed them sippy cups. But something clicked when at the end of the day one of the girls came running up to him and held out a sheet of paper.  
  
“I dreh you a picthah!” She chirped. Steve kneeled down at her level.

“A picture? For me.” She nodded vigorously. Steve accept the drawing she held out to him. It was just a page of colorful scribbles. Nothing too advanced for a three-year-old.  
“That’s _beautiful_. Are you sure that you want to give it to me? Don’t you want to show it to mommy and daddy?” Her pigtails flailed around when she shook her head. 

“‘s you.” She pointed in the middle of the page.

“For me? That’s so sweet of you! Thank you, Emma.” 

“No no no no-” 

“No?” He looked back at the little girl. She prodded at the paper while she kept starting a sentence only to stop midway to start over again. Steve had been told by his colleagues not to correct the toddlers or guess what they meant, but to wait for them to find their words on their own. It was supposed to be good for speech development or something like that.

“Tha picthah is of _ you _ .” Emma’s mouth stayed wrapped around the ‘ou’. Steve gasped.

“You drew a picture of _ me _ ?” The face he made send Emma down into a fit of giggles.  
He turned the drawing around and held it to his chest, beaming like a lighthouse. She grinned and nodded proudly. 

An indescribable feeling washed over Steve. During his first few days, he had tried his best to be invisible, to do his tasks like a little house elf without standing in anyone’s way. Almost as if he was afraid to take up space, scared that he might step on toes or knock something over. If he could, he avoided his coworkers. They seemed to know what they were doing. They were busy enough without Steve asking them stupid questions every time he was mildly confused. 

But despite all his attempts to hide, he seemed to have made enough of an impression on little Emma for her to want to draw him. She had _noticed _him. Her drawing was physical proof that he was not invisible. Somehow this little girl had made him feel seen in a way that he hadn’t in… well, a long time.

“You drew a picture of me?” He repeated, quieter this time. “Thank you so much...” 

** [[Rex Orange County - 10/10]](https://youtu.be/TozTL-MJCB8?t=14) **

He turned the picture around to look at the nonsensical scribbles. ‘A mess,’ he grinned. ‘if that ain’t me.’  
“Look at that. I think I’ve never looked better!” 

Little kids were fun. Much more fun than babies - or adults, for that matter. They can tell you when they were hungry, tired or when they needed to go potty. But they can also play. And Steve found that, actually, he really loved to play. And the kids loved to play with him. Maybe it was because he was the only guy on the staff. Maybe they liked that they could be rough with him and he would let them play rough instead of trying to break up every little fight that would pop up. Their favorite games were either to grab and hang onto his limbs until he couldn’t move or to get him down on the floor and pile on top of him - so he couldn’t move. 

The moms absolutely adored him. It started to happen more and more often that mothers would come over or be dragged along by their kids to say ‘hi’. They would tell him that the kids talked about him at home or that they were excited to go to daycare in the morning. Steve was gobsmacked. He still didn’t feel like he was doing anything special. It felt like the first time that his kindness was actually rewarded.

And that was reflected in his paycheck. He wasn’t making bank or anything of the sort, but it was significantly more than he was making at Scoops or Family Video. After three months of saving and a little help from his parents, he could make a downpayment for an apartment at a walking distance from his job. As a social worker herself, Steve’s mother was absolutely thrilled that her son had gone into youth care. She loved when he talked about his kids whenever he came over for dinner. She’d even given him a few books from her own collection for him to have a look at. His father, Steve knew, was less excited about his son settling for ‘a woman’s job’. But since Steve made a moderate living and he appeared happy doing what he was doing, Mr. Harrington mostly kept his mouth shut. Steve didn’t expect his father to understand, so he treated this as a pretty positive outcome.

The place he bought was a two-floor, one-bedroom apartment on the east side of Hawkins. It had an open floor plan with something of which he couldn’t discern whether it was a kitchen island or a breakfast bar. He despised it either way. The whole place was a little too modern for his taste but his parents insisted that it was the best deal for his money. It felt like it was too much space for one person, even though it wasn’t anything too fancy. It was just a lot of space. “Every space shrinks half the size once it’s furnished, trust me,” his mother had said. And he’d taken her word for it. 

Still, the first thing he did when the movers left was not crack open the toolbox and get started on the shelves or the bed frame. Instead, he unpacked his new magnets and put the drawing Emma had made for him on his fridge. He smiled proudly at the deliberate strokes of orange and blue. Somehow those scribbles made him feel more at home than a couch or a bookcase ever could.

It didn’t take long before more drawings came piling in. Pretty soon the fridge was spilling over so he continued his collection onto the walls. After five months of working at the daycare, his kitchen was starting to look a lot like Mrs. Byers's house four years ago. He never threw out a single thing the kids made for him. It looked a bit strange from an outsider's perspective, a man in his early twenties who’s kitchen and living room were largely covered in children’s drawings. But Steve didn’t care all that much about what the rare few people who crossed his floor thought about him. To be fair, he didn’t have much of a personal life outside his work. After a long day of investing all his energy in the kids, he didn’t feel a strong need to go out and socialize. He preferred to stay in and watch some tv before he hit the hay around 9 or 10. When the loneliness would inevitably stick its head up, he would go on a few dates, but nothing ever lasted. He could never bring himself to invest in a relationship. 

But overall, Steve was happy. He still wasn’t sure if this was what he wanted to do for the rest of his life, but for now, he found his work fulfilling. 

Sometimes Steve looked at the phone number Max had given him, the one of Billy’s dorm in Canada. Sometimes he even punched a few digits into his phone. But something always stopped him. One time he actually completed the number but as soon as the dial tone went off, he smashed the horn back down. Billy probably wasn’t waiting on his call anyway. It wasn’t like he had tried to make contact, right? It was probably better like this anyway. He shouldn’t be thinking about Billy anyway. That was all in the past.

As time went on, his thoughts about Billy became shorter and less frequent. Soon there were days he didn’t think about Billy at all. Those days slipped into weeks and eventually became months. It’s hard to keep track of the way you forgot something for the very fact that you don’t spend a lot of time mulling over the thing you’re not thinking about. Steve had nearly forgotten that Billy existed until one morning in February he picked up his newspaper and his eyes happened to fall on an ad. 

_ **February 26th, 1989** _

_ Neil Hargrove_  
_Vietnam Veteran US Army  
_ _ 1941-1989 _

  
  


//

Despite the short notice, Steve still managed to get off work early. The harder part turned out to be explaining to the kids why he had to leave in the middle of the day.

“Are you going to the dentist?” Steve snorted. 

“No, Kev. I’m gonna see a friend.” 

“But why?” The little boy just so happened to be in that phase where 4 out of 5 of his sentences start with the word ‘why’.

“Because...” Steve mumbled as he tied his scarf. “My friend is sad.”

“Why is he sad?”

“Because erm… his dad died.” Kevin tilted his head.

“What’s ‘died’?” Steve’s eyes widened.

“D’aaaahh- see, dying- erm- Listen, actually- I don't know! How about you go ask Monica and tell me the answer tomorrow? Yeah? Alright, see you, Kev! Play nice!”

Once home, he bounced in and out of the shower. Somehow there was always fingerpaint in creases of his body where he really didn’t expect to find it. As he was struggling with his tie, he paused to stare at his own reflection in the mirror. From some angles, it still looked as if he had a jawline, though he wasn’t sure if it was just good lighting. He knew he had softened up a little over the past year or so. There were a few grey hairs sprouting from his temples. Steve's father had started greying at 18 and Steve knew it could happen to him as well, but it still caught him off guard when he noticed the first signs of discoloration around a year ago. He’d cut the first few out but at some point, he simply lost track. Girls had told him they found it hot so he decided to embrace it. They were little everyday changes that didn’t bother Steve all that much until he considered what they might look like when added up to months. And although he knew it to be a ridiculous thought, he wondered for a second if Billy would even recognize him. Could it be that he looked so drastically different from eight months ago that he didn’t even resemble the person who drove out of the Bloomington campus? Steve felt like a completely different person. For better or for worse, he felt almost like an adult. And he wondered what kind of adult Billy might have become.

At the location, it became clear that Neil Hargrove didn’t have that many people around him near the end of his life. Almost half of the attendees had shown up in uniform. The collective as a whole was just enough to make the small chapel look decently filled. Steve sat down in the fifth row shortly before the start of the ceremony. As a priest started talking, he couldn’t help but let his eyes wander to the first row in search of a familiar blond mullet. 

After a song and a vet who said a few words about Mr. Hargrove’s courageous service during the Vietnam war, a younger face took the stage, encouraged by gentle applause. At first glance, Billy looked the same as he always had. But upon closer inspection, the boyish roundness to his face had made way for a more mature look. Maybe he had lost what little puppy chub he once had. Or maybe it was the fact that he had pulled his hair back into a small bun at the back of this head that made his features look more pronounced. 

“Thank you,” Billy said as the applause quieted down. He reached into his breast pocket and took out a piece of paper. 

“My dad was never a man of many words...” Billy glanced up briefly as he unfolded the page on the lectern. “He always told me to get to the point, so I’ll try to keep this short.” A tentative laugh rolled through the chapel. Billy cleared his throat before he looked up into the seated crowd.

“I think that as children, especially as teenagers we can know that our parents love us without feeling it. My dad was the type of man that preferred to say those things with actions rather than words. Again, not a man of many words.” 

“He was definitely a tough-love kinda guy. Really believed that whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger as… has been exemplified by Colonel Campbell. Thanks again for your generous words about my father.” He paused for a second to look down at his notes.

“I met my father when I was seven when I started living with him. But I only really got to know him after I had an accident at 18, almost four years ago, when I got trapped under the debris of a mall fire and almost lost my life. The moment I woke up in the hospital with my father at my bedside is the first time I recall seeing him cry. And I had that realization that you have as a teenager when knowing turns into feeling and I realized: oh you _actually _care about me. I’m not just so annoying little prick to you, you like- _ actually _want me around.” This time he was the only one who laughed. 

“And erm- my dad was my rock after that. He pulled me through all my physical therapy and- when I told him that I still wanted to try out to play basketball at a college level, he believed in me. He invested in me, not just with the little money we had but with his time. I would never be where I am today without the father that I had.” Steve smiled softly. He knew that Billy’s father had been an ass, to say the least, but sometimes he wished his own father had cared about anything he did. Or that he’d helped Steve work something out. But time was probably the last thing Yotam Harrington would ever give his son. 

“But I promised I would get to the point,” Billy continued. “which I haven’t so far - and I can hear the Old Man scolding me from the spirit realm.” His eyes lingered on the paper longer than they had before. When he straightened himself up, there was a new emotion in his eyes. Apart from the nerves and discomfort, there was a hint of something else. For a second Steve thought that Billy might cry.

“Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about my dad and what it means to be a father. And now that I’m about to become one myself, I think a lot about the kind of dad that I want to be.”

[ **[Tom Milsom - Fine]** ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=imrpjslP52o)

All the blood drained from Steve’s face. He stared at the boy with his hair tied back and his suit that was just a little bit too big for him. Suddenly Billy didn’t look older. He looked like the boy Steve once knew. The one who blasted his music loud enough to hear his car coming in from three blocks away. The one who picked his nose and wiped his boogers on the desk. The one who swore he was never going to grow old.

‘But you’re sixteen,’ Steve thought, ‘But we’re in high school. But you have your whole life ahead of you. But what about ‘someday’?’

Of course, Steve realized that they were not in high school anymore. He was 23 and Billy was probably 22. He would be graduating from college soon. They were not together. And ‘someday’ was a promise Billy never intended to keep.

“I would do a lot of things different.” Billy continued. “My dad was far from perfect. I’ve said before that if I could change anything about my childhood, it would be everything...” Steve swore he could see Billy’s eyes flicker to him. “...but I suppose that absence really does make the heart grow fonder.” He straightened his back, looked at and past the crowd as if he wasn’t entirely inside of his body.

“I admire my dad for his perseverance. For his courage. For his unwavering support. He was a man that believed in a cause and fought for it.” 

“I guess that when my kid grows up and they ask: what was grandpa like, I’ll tell them that he was a hero. Not just for me but to the country. To his neighbors. And anyone who was in need of his help.” He gave a tight nod, after which the company started clapping again. Billy returned to his seat in the front row, where a girl met him with a sweet smile and brushed a loose strand of hair behind his ear. 

//

As the closest relative to Neil Hargrove, Billy was the top attraction after the ceremony. Steve watched from across the room as Billy had been exchanging niceties with the veterans that wanted to offer their condolences. Meanwhile, Steve had been making small talk with Max and Lucas, the only other people he knew by name. More often than he wanted to admit, he looked over their shoulders at steal glances at Billy. More than once did he catch the other man’s eyes. His stomach squirmed the same way it did the day Steve had to get in his car and leave Billy behind. As if he was bound to Billy with a rubber band that would snap if he had to stay away for a second longer. And at the same time, he was overcome with a feeling of guilt. Because he was not allowed to look at him like this. Not in a public setting. Not now that Billy had a girlfriend. He was supposed to be nothing but a friend.

[[Johan Johansson - The Theory of Everything (instrumental)]](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pMJFjjF_YAI&list=PLtk2eE9V0D83lT27EgM-OxPevb6KMnVtu&index=24)

He straightened himself when Billy excused himself to the army men and took a few strides in the direction of where Steve was standing. They locked eyes and smirked. As if they had a mind of their own, Steve’s feet started moving. No one looked up as the two stars gave into each other’s gravity. It was massive and minuscule at the same time. They were hidden in plain sight. It was sweet and secretive. And for a moment, Steve felt like nothing had changed. 

“Hey man, thanks for coming,” Billy said it with more than just words. It radiated out of him. Steve swore that Billy felt it too, this electricity. The feeling of the air before it’s about to storm.

“Of course,” Steve replied in a hushed tone as if only Billy was allowed to hear. “I’m sorry about your dad.” Billy shrugged it off.

“Don’t be. Glad we put him in the ground.” That’s- okay. Not quite what Steve expected to hear after that speech. 

“See you got rid of the glasses.” Billy pointed out after a few beats of silence. Steve blinked a few times before he registered what Billy was saying. It’d been some time since someone had brought it up to him.

“Oh, yeah I work with little kids now and- you know how they are. They just keep grabbing them. They fall off, so I switched to contacts a while ago.” Billy nodded. His eyes narrowed just a tad as if he was holding on to a thought.

“You work with kids?” 

“Yeah,” Steve brought a hand to the back of his head. “I- erm, I work at the daycare here. Just… you know. The typical stuff. Entertain the kids. Keep them fed and watered. Make sure no one... wets their pants...” 

It usually earned him points with girls he wanted to pick up. They seemed surprisingly into paternal guys. But his guy friends… not so much. He half expected Billy to laugh at him. The guy surely would have done so a few years ago. But there wasn’t a trace of taunt on Billy’s face. Nothing but an amused sense of wonder.

“Wow,” Billy grinned. “Who would have guessed.” Steve scratched his neck. 

“But erm- what about you? I heard you were in Canada, right?” Man, he hated the small talk. He didn’t know what he wanted to talk about, but it sure as hell wasn’t this. Billy was a lot better at pretending. His eyes shone as he stood just a little bit taller.

“Yeah!” He proclaimed. “Yeah, I have a few months left there. It’s really wild. You’d think it shouldn’t be too different since it’s the same language and stuff, but- the culture and the people there are sooo different, you wouldn’t believe-”

Before he could finish his sentence, a girl wrapped her hand around Billy’s bicep. The first thing Steve noticed about her (which honestly was quite hard to miss) was her hair. Her dreadlocks were tied back, in what Steve assumed to be a vain attempt to make them look somewhat appropriate for a funeral. But there was simply no ‘appropriate’ way to wear dreadlocks to any event or location in Hawkins. 

“Hey, babe.” She whispered. “The owner asked me to get you. They’re looking to...” The second thing Steve noticed about her was the way Billy looked at her. He was struck by her presence like a candle by a match: he both lit up and melted at the mere sight of her.

“Heey, speak of the Devil,” He beamed as he snuck an arm around her waist and pulled her against his hip. “Sharon, have you met Steve yet?” Sharon looked to Steve as if he was the shopping window of a toy store during Christmas time. 

“You’re Steve!” She exclaimed as she reached for his hand. “Billy has told me so much about you!” Steve shook the girl’s hand all while eyeing Billy suspiciously. What kind of things have you been telling her? 

“Wait… you knew Billy in high school, right?” 

“Er- yeah, well- I was a year higher than him but we played basketball together for a while-” She stopped him. 

“Okay, okay- so I have a very important question-” Billy laughed through his teeth.

“You really wanna do this now?”

“Uh- _ yes_,” Sharon snapped, an impish grin on her lips. “I need this settled. Okay, we have a question for you.” 

“D’aah… Okay?” Steve’s eyes flickered over to Billy, but he only seemed to have eyes for his girl.

“If you had to pick three words to describe Billy during his teenage years,” She spoke intently. “which three words would you use?”

“Three words?” Steve repeated. “Oh, that’s easy.” He counted on his fingers.

“Simply. The. Worst.” Now, he hoped it would get a laugh out of the couple, but he did not expect the reaction he got. 

“Yes!” Billy chanted as he threw his hands up in the air. “I fucking told you so!”  
“You guys planned that!” Sharon shouted at the same time. “I do **not** believe this!” A few of the guests turned their heads.

“Thanks, man. You just made me 10 bucks.” Billy winked. Sharon crossed her arms.

“You guys planned that before I got here.” 

“Oh come on,” Billy scoffed. “Does he look like he’s in on the joke?” Steve stared at them as if they had just grown an extra set of arms.

“Okay okay,” Billy uttered. “so Sharon did not believe that I used to be one hell of a dicknugget, so we made a bet. I bet on ‘The Absolute Worst’ which- my respects, you were incredibly close.”

“I bet on ‘Ball Of Sunshine,” Sharon added.

“My back-up was ‘Menace To All’.” 

“Mine was ‘Overly Excited Puppy’.”

“But yeah, so I won and now Sharon owes me 10 bucks.” Billy’s grin was wide enough to split a continent. 

“To be honest,” Steve chimed in. “‘Ball Of Sunshine’ was a terrible bet. Are sure we’re talking about the same Billy here?”

“Right? I told her, I was a fucking dicknugget, but she just _ doesn’t _ believe me.”

“I mean, some would argue that you still are.” Steve mused. Billy cackled as if the whole conversation wasn’t framed around taking jabs at his character.

“Right, like- remember that time... we were on an away-game and you kept dropping the ball and we lost the game. So then at night, while you were asleep, Tommy and I stole your clothes and hung them out in the rain and you had to sit in the bus the next day in your wet clothes for like- three hours.” 

“You pissed in my shoes as well.” Steve grinned.

“Haaa! Yeah, I did! How’d you explain that to your parents by the way?” Steve shrugged.

“I just told them I needed new gym shoes. They didn’t ask any questions.” Billy rolled his eyes fondly.

“Of course your rich ass parents didn’t give a shit.” It was just banter, of course. But any time Billy looked at him in the eyes, Steve had to think about every breath he took. It felt a lot like looking into the sun. He knew he wasn’t allowed and yes it hurt, but he also never wanted to look away. He never wanted the sun to stop looking at him.

“Hey, guys,” Sharon whispered. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but I was supposed to tell you that they want to clear the place. The next family wants to start putting things in place-” 

“Oh! Right, erm-“ Billy glanced back at Steve, overwhelming him once again with his brightness.  
“I’m sorry. Maybe we can meet up later and catch up?” 

“Erm, yeah sure,” Steve said. “I mean- I have some stew brewing on the stove. If you guys want you could come over for dinner. There’s more than enough.” Had he intentionally cooked for more than one person? Who was to say? He sure hadn’t planned on having two people over tonight but he was willing to take what he could get. 

“Oh, that’s so nice. Babe, what do you say?” Billy asked as he turned to his girlfriend. Sharon smiled knowingly, eyeing between the two boys.

“Don’t worry about it.” She said. “I know when I’m third-wheeling. You guys go have a boy’s night.” Both men shot her a befuddled look.

“You’re more than welcome to join,” Steve worried that he carried his affection for her man a little too much his sleeve. But she laughed and shook her head with a warm but tired smile. 

“I promise, it’s completely fine. I’m sure you guys have plenty of catching up to do. Plus, I didn’t get that much sleep on the plane and we have to leave early tomorrow morning, so- I think I’m going to make it an early night.” she took a deep breath. “You guys go catch up. I’ll be good.”

“Are you feeling alright? You’ve been on your feet a lot.” Billy murmured, a crease growing between his brows. Sharon answered him with an inquisitive glare upon which the man rolled his eyes.  
“Alright, got it. You do you.” He patted her shoulder before he turned to Steve.

“I’m not allowed to ask her how she’s doing anymore.” The snark was dripping from his tone.

“Noo,” Sharon protested. “We agreed that I will _ tell you _ if I need something so you can stop _ asking _ every 10 minutes.” It was adorable really, how they pretended to be annoyed at each other. Steve’s eyes paused briefly at the small bump that protruded through Sharon’s black dress.

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” Billy squeezed her gently. 

“_Yes, _ Billy. I promise I’m fine.” She insisted as she untangled herself from him. “I’ll have a night in, bonding with your sister and your step-mom. You go have bro-time with Steve.”

She pressed a quick kiss to Billy’s lips before she ushered him off. But just as he was about to pull his arm away, Billy railed her back in to pepper another peck on her lips, pretended to pulled away only to kiss her again and again until she started laughing and squirming. And his smile… he smiled as if he couldn’t be more in love. And Steve tried to breathe past the thickness in his throat. He tried his very best not to turn green at the sight of this new gentle side that Sharon seemed to have awakened in Billy. The Ball Of Sunshine. The Overly Excited Puppy.

A petty and bitter part of Steve wanted to hate her. It would be so much easier if he did. But from the way they looked at each other, how naturally they seemed to slotted together despite how different they seemed, he simply couldn’t hate either of them for being happy.  
  
Steve couldn't hate Sharon. Maybe he just wanted to be her. He wished he was more convenient. He wished he was the easy pick. But it wasn’t just her safety that made Steve envious. 

Billy had never been gentle with him. Not in public, not even when they were alone. It had always been chased. Billy never took the time to take care of Steve on any level other than physical. Steve always assumed it was just Billy’s nature. But maybe he was wrong. Maybe he just hadn’t been worth the effort in Billy’s eyes. 

Sharon’s smile faltered as she watched her man hurry off to help someone carry flowers into the backroom. Her happy green eyes grew still so swiftly it pulled at Steve’s heart.

“Are you sure you don’t mind me stealing him from you?” Steve asked carefully once they were alone. She blinked and straightened herself up.

“Oh please, I should thank you for taking him off my hands for a while.” A faint smile played on her lips. There was a moment of silence before she added, “You know, sometimes I feel like Billy is the pregnant one. He’s been all over the place this past week.” Steve nodded as they both watched the guests that weren’t family trickle out of the room. As the chapel emptied, every word seemed to echo just that little bit louder. 

“How did he take the news?” The fact that he whispered made Steve feel like he was prodding for some very intimate information. Sharon shook her head.

“I honestly can’t tell you. Not too well, I think but-” she exhaled through her nose. “I know everyone griefs in a different way... but I just feel like he’s... just keeping busy so he doesn’t have to deal with anything.” The nail of her thumb was clenched between her teeth. Steve couldn't decide whether Sharon had a broad face or simply a flat nose. She was pretty- just in a way that wasn't too obvious at first. It was a kind of pretty that needed a little more attention before you noticed it. Her eyes appeared a little further apart than the average persons. It gave her something elfish or otherworldly. Or maybe this was just what Canadians looked like. Steve had never seen one from up close. 

“It’s just…" She sighed. "I think he could really use some time away from me and his family right now. He’s been so off-center.” Her expression changed as she turned to look at Steve. 

“Look, I don’t mean to freak you out,” clearly, this was Steve’s cue to start quietly freaking out “but he hasn’t cried yet…” Her voice went up at the end of the sentence. “I don’t know if it’s going to happen tonight or if he’ll cry at all, but- I just thought you should know. Just in case it all comes... spilling out- Again, not saying that it will-” She bit her tongue. “Should I have told you this? I feel like I’m making things awkward.” Steve’s eyes widened.

“No no no, It’s- I get it,” He insisted. He rolled his lips, staring off before he said: “I’ll keep an eye out for him.” Sharon looked at him in a way that Steve didn’t understand. 

“I’m glad he has friends like you,” she murmured.

‘Trust me,’ Steve thought, ‘you shouldn’t be.’

//

Steve’s eyes darted to the clock when his doorbell chimed. Holy- how was it seven already? He wiped his hands on his apron before he brought his hands to his neck and tried to undo the strings. He had wanted to change into something nicer than a sweater but somehow he always lost track of time while he was cooking. He glanced at the countertop and- oh _god_, it was an absolute mess. There was barely any surface space that wasn’t covered in either waste, different sorts of knives, chopping boards and empty tomato cans. He tossed the apron to the side. It would have to do.

“Oh my god that smells amazing,” Billy said as soon as Steve opened the door. Steve laughed. It hadn’t been the first time that people had been surprised by his cooking and honestly, he didn’t mind. He wasn’t all that used to subverting expectations in a positive way, so he decided to relish in it whenever he could. 

“Hello to you, too. Come in.” Billy stepped over the threshold, eyes darting all around the narrow hallway.

“Nice place you got.” He uttered just above a breath. “These are for you by the way.” He handed Steve a bouquet of orange and yellow flowers. Steve’s face gained a new color.

“Oh, wow. Thanks.” He took the flowers from Billy’s hand so the guy could take off his coat. They were a type that Steve didn’t know the name of. Their petals looked a little like wrinkled, balled up kite paper, the kind of flowers you would make in elementary school. 

“You really didn’t have to.”

“Don’t fret it,” Billy muttered. “They were leftover from the funeral. Susan’s place is already overflowing with them, so I thought I would take some for you.” Steve smacked his lips. 

“Well… that was almost romantic but I guess I’m still going to enjoy these, knowing they are your father’s death flowers.” 

//

“You want a drink?” Steve asked as returned to the sink with the one vase he owned. It was, like most things in his house, courtesy of one of his mother’s many thrift store adventures. When she wasn’t saving children off the streets of Indianapolis, she liked to hunt for underpriced antiques in local stores and resell them for their actual value. It wasn’t like they needed the money. The Harringtons just had their ways of turning any hobby into profit. 

Steve put the vase on the kitchen island and pulled out a cutting board. “I have some beers. There’s a bottle of red cooling.” Billy had wandered around Steve’s kitchen and living room as if he’d been coming around for years. He had halted briefly in front of the collage of children’s drawings and smiled.

“Hm, little wine sounds nice.” He mused as he walked up to the fridge. A ‘help yourself’ wasn’t even needed. Billy knew how to take care of himself. 

“So err- how’s your day been?” Steve asked, just to say something. “Expect for like- your dad’s funeral and stuff?” Billy let out a disinterested hum while he examined the wine’s label. 

“Not too eventful,” he murmured. “Hung out with Max for a bit. I had some plans to show Sharon around a few places, but she went down for a nap as soon as we came home. Didn’t wake before I came here. Where's the glasses?” Steve glanced over his shoulder.

“Oh, they’re in the pantry.” Billy opened over the pantry doors.  
“No, the one right next to the fridge.”

“This one?”

“You got it.”

“Ooh, got them.”

“No, that’s a champagne flute. You’re gonna want to get the wider ones.” Billy frowned as he glanced over Steve’s collection. “Dude, you have so many shapes.” He noted. Steve didn’t look up as he chopped the bases off the flower stems.

“Yeah, my parents gave me a full set for my birthday.” He muttered.  
“Apparently the shape of the glass is supposed to change the flavor of the wine. It has something to do with smell,” Why was he talking about _wine glasses_ out of all things? “Either way, they got sick of drinking out of the ‘wrong type of glass’ when they came over for dinner, so it was kind of a present to themselves. I don’t really taste the difference.” 

‘I guess this is what we’re doing now,’ Steve thought as he threw the waste in the bin. ‘We play a grown-up version of house. I cook you dinner. You bring me flowers. We talk about wine glasses. This is life now.’ 

In the meantime, Billy had uncorked the bottle and had a good sniff. He pulled a face that could really mean anything but didn’t seem entirely put off.

“I started out not wanting to drink while Sharon was pregnant.” He chuckled as he poured the glasses. “Lasted all but two weeks I believe.” He actually put in a reasonable amount this time, compared to the way he had poured their whiskey that night at the frat house. It seemed like a distant memory at this point. Something that he heard in a story from one of his friends but not something that happened to them. 

Billy handed Steve his glass.  
“To my dad,” He said, “May the ground keep him down because he sure as hell won’t be getting up to heaven.” They drank to that. 

“Oh,” Steve stepped over to the stove. He used his free hand to open a drawer and got a spoon out. A thick, hearty scent billowed up as soon as he removed the lid from the slow cooker.

“Oh wow, that looks good,” Billy remarked when he leaned over to look into the pan. Inside it bubbled a rich, brown concoction. Some chunks Billy recognized as potatoes, carrots, and meat while others were harder to place. Steve handed a spoonful over to Billy.

“Tell me what you think.” He said and rested one hand on the edge of the countertop.

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Billy mumbled before he popped the spoon in his mouth. His eyes grew wide. 

“Yeah, good?” The smile was audible through Steve’s voice. Billy nodded, his eyes still the size of saucers. 

“Holy shit, yeah that’s good.” He mouthed. His eyes stayed pinned on the pan as if Steve had created liquid gold.

“I wasn’t sure whether you like spicy food, so I kept it pretty mellow. But I could give it a bit more pop if you’d like.”   
“Oh, I like spicy,” Billy said as he cleaned the spoon off. Steve nodded and walked around Billy to fetch a chili from the fridge. “You have to pass me the recipe because this is amazing,” Billy said as watched Steve deseed the pepper.

“Erm… I don’t _ really _have a recipe per se...” Steve mumbled as he chopped it up into neat little pieces. “Like- I know what kinda stuff goes into it, but the rest is feeling. Just some of this and that, you know.”

“You came up with this yourself?”

“No!” Steve laughed. “No, this is a very old Hungarian dish. One of my go-to’s. Just- nice comfort food. Mama Selma used to make it for me all the time. T’was one of the first things she showed me how to make.”

“Help me out here, Selma was your… grandmother?” Billy squinted his eyes.

“Erm- no. She was my nanny.” Steve corrected as he began to clear the counter of onion choppings.

“She let me know pretty early on that I wasn’t going to be a lazy husband like hers - not under her watch at least - so she taught me how to do my own laundry, how to cook, that sort of stuff. So by the time I was sixteen, I could pretty much live by myself. Parents would’ve happily paid her for another two years, but she insisted that I was old enough to look after myself.” Steve realized while he wiped his hands on a dishtowel that Billy had been staring at him. 

“What’s that look?” He snickered, mostly humorous if not a little uncomfortable. Billy averted his gaze and shrugged, a tiny smile playing on his lips.

“I don’t know,” he tittered. “I guess I thought I knew everything there was to know about you.” He brushed a hand through his hair and added, “I realize how dumb that is but-” He exhaled through his nose and glanced up. “I don’t know.” Steve held his gaze. He wished he ever felt like that about Billy, like he knew everything there was to know. Somehow, he’d always had this feeling that there were things below Billy’s surface that Steve would never get to. In the same way that the ocean is largely undiscovered, so too did Steve know that he’d only skimmed the shallow waters of this man he claimed to know. He got pulled out of his thoughts as the oven timer went off. 

“Dinner’s ready,” Steve croaked as he opened the oven door, pulled the bread onto an unused cutting board and wondered how the hell he was supposed to make it through tonight without jumping the guy.

They ate. It was quiet for the most part, except for a few compliments on the food. They glanced up from their plates ever once in a while, would nod at each other, still chewing before they dropped their gaze again. It felt a lot like an awkward first date. In some way it was, but other ways it clearly wasn’t. 

“So… how’s college?” Steve said after another dragging silence. He felt like a complete loser for asking but at the same time he was glad he said anything at all. Because Billy laughed and some of the tension between them seemed to fade. 

“Good, _ dad_. Thanks for asking.” Steve almost choked on his food. Billy’s eyes widened. 

“Okay there?”

“I’m great.” Steve wheezed and covered his mouth as he his best to keep his eyes from popping out of his skull. Yeah, no. Great time for Billy to call him daddy- _dad_. Cool. No big deal. He totally didn’t pop a semi just thinking- Yeah no, making conversation was going great. Couldn’t be better.

“But erm-” Billy continued. Steve couldn’t discern from his tone whether or not he noticed Steve’s… excitement. “Canada is great! The school I go to, they have really good outer space courses. Like- there’s this one professor, Dmitri Lashmanova. I’ve had to read a bunch of his work for my courses at Bloomington and the guy’s an absolute genius so I just wanted to have a class from him _ at least _at some point in my life.” The glee that overtook Billy as he talked about his studies was infectious. Steve had never seen someone so genuinely passionate about their course material - not even Amber. Plus, the space talk did a decent job distracting him from his hard-on - nope. Still going strong. Lovely. 

“Oh, that’s so cool.” Steve cleared his throat. “So like- you want to go into space exploration or what?” Billy chewed and nodded.

“Erm, yeah ideally. Not as an astronaut, of course, I mean-” He rolled his eyes, waving his fork around. “Sharon would kill me if I ever tried to get onto a space shuttle, but also- I don’t know. I’m more into the magic behind it all.”

“So you’re gonna be working for NASA or something then? Or Canadian NASA?” Billy smirked meekly.

“Funny you should mention them.” He mumbled. “I erm- next year we have to do an internship and erm…” His bottom lip was caught between his teeth. “Just before we flew here I got the letter that I got a position at the-”

“NO WAY!” Steve dropped his spoon. “You’re gonna work at NASA? Dude, that’s huge!” Billy chuckled and ducked his head. 

“I mean- I’ll just be an intern of course. I’ll mostly be getting everyone coffee and doing calculations the pros have already done- ” 

“Okay, no- stop right there,” Steve opened his mouth but no matter how he moved his jaw, so sounds came out. He didn’t have any _words _to express. There was just a lot of _feeling_. Mostly feelings of pride, but also confusion and a little bit of worry.  
“Why are you only just saying this?” He sounded nearly out of breath. “This is huge! Were you even going to tell me if I hadn’t brought NASA up?” Billy stirred his stew.

“I don’t know. I don’t even know if I’m going to take it, honestly.” 

“What do you _mean _you’re not gonna take it? It’s fucking NASA! It’s the space boys!” 

“I know!” Billy sounded like a kid who was trying to wiggle himself out of shit with his parents. “And it should be fucking amazing but-” He put his cutlery down. He spoke slowly this time. “I also have a baby coming in July. And Sharon wants to stay close to her family.” 

“I haven’t even told her I got the internship yet.” He admitted. “_ And I know_. She’ll probably tell me to go for it and to follow my dreams or whatever, but-” He chewed on the inside of his cheek. “If I do, I’m gonna be one of those guys who ditches the girl and the baby to have his own fun.” Steve looked at this kid who was and would always be a year younger than him, but who already seemed so much more adult than him. 

“Yeah, that does sound hard.” Was all he could come up with to say. He started to worry that maybe they just lost their connection. Maybe their lives were just too different now. 

“You know, my dad chose kind of a convenient time to pass because I can really use that inheritance money right now.” Billy chuckled while he picked a piece of bread out of the basket and dunked it in his stew. He continued talking with his mouth full. That much hadn’t changed. “I was thinking that I might need to drop out of college altogether to support them but right now we’ve at least got some buffer.” 

“Did he know about the baby?” Billy shook his head.

“No, no.” Billy had gotten very quiet. “I was still looking for a way to tell him, to be honest.” 

“Must be kind of weird,” Steve whispered as he picked his wine back up. “that he’ll never know he’s got a grandkid.” Billy picked at something that was stuck between his teeth.

“Yeah, a little bit.” 'You must feel guilty about that,' Steve thought but he kept that it to himself. In a way that Steve didn’t want to admit to himself, he felt very gratified by Billy’s dejection. A part of him that he didn’t want to admit to was hell-bent on making Billy cry. 

I’m going to make you feel comfortable enough to confront the grief that you’ve been holding back. I’m going to prove to you that we still have it.

Billy appeared lost in his thought for a moment before he cracked a smile and let out a soft chuckle.  
“I mean- thank god that I have Sharon.” Billy laughed. “This kid can do without its granddad, it could probably do without me but it sure helps to know they’ll be in the hands of a good mother.” Steve swallowed and nodded.

There is this age-old joke about guys and relationships:

How do you tell if a guy has a girlfriend?  
You don’t. He’ll tell you.

The punchline never really hit home for Steve until now. Billy couldn't go five sentences without bringing her up. The worst part was that he didn’t seem to notice that he was doing it. She had become such a natural part of his life that her name was like the word ‘the’ or ‘and’ to him. It was basically impossible for him to have a conversation without using it. 

“It’s funny, she’s…” Billy waited for Steve to finish his sentence, but the guy kept chewing on his lip with a constipated expression on his face. 

“What?” Billy smirked.

“I don’t know!” Steve shook his head and chuckled. “She’s so… not your type. At least-“ ‘At least so I thought.’ 

“What is my type then?” Billy asked, eyes narrowing. Not menacing but rather curious. Steve tried his best to find the least offensive way to say this.

“I guess the girls I’ve seen you with, like- in college and high school… They seemed shallow, I guess? At least you didn’t seem to care.” Was it the girl who was different or was it the way Billy looked at her?

“I mean… you’re not wrong. I just wasn’t that picky when it came to substance.” Billy paused to take a sip from his wine. “I guess there’s people that keep you busy and then there’s... people like her” Steve tried his best to keep a brave face and pretend like it didn’t sting. But in the back of his head, he still heard that little voice whisper: so to which category do I belong? Was I just another thing to keep you busy?

Steve took a big gulp from his wine. “so- how long have you guys been together?” 

“Erm… _ officially, _ I guess between four or five months. We decided to try and make it a serious thing just a week before she found out she was pregnant.” Steve nearly choked on his drink.

“Yeaah,” Billy laughed heartily. “Yeah, don’t recommend it. But erm, yeah. We talked about it a lot. She kinda talked me down and erm… we decided to stay together. Or at least try and see how far we get.” 

“But what about you?” Billy reclined in his seat. “Are you seeing anyone?” Steve shook his head and glanced away.

“Not at the moment,” he admitted. “Just haven’t found the time. Or the right person, I guess.” Billy wore a timid smile. “She’ll come around.” He said as if he was saying sorry. “It’s gonna happen when you’re not looking for it. I’ll tell you that much.” Steve looked up to meet the boy’s eyes. They didn’t have to say it. They both knew what Steve was thinking.

//

[[Maisie Peters - The Place We Were Made]](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EauYea9MyLE)

After they had finished eating they moved themselves and when was left of the wine onto the couch to play an unprompted game of ‘Remember That Time When’, a game that people usually start playing around their late teens or early twenties where one person will start rehashing an old memory, typically using the phrase ‘Remember that time when (we were playing state finals and McEwan tripped to ball.). The other person might continue to add to the memory. They might go back and forth coloring the rest of the story in until either conversationalist mentions something vaguely related and they move on to an adjacent topic. In another scenario, the conversation partner might not remember the proposed memory and the original speaker will be offended that their partner forgot something so important that absolutely happened. In this case, the memory holder will continue to add details until the other person finally latches on and remembers. If this does not happen, it might in some severe cases lead to the end of a friendship or at least a few weeks of both parties ignoring each other.

Billy and Steve went back and forth like this for what might have been hours.

“Remember that time when you came to scoops and made it a whole thing to taste _every single_ flavor before you made a choice? Even the flavors you are allergic to?”

“Ice cream rarely contains real strawberries!” Billy protested. “How was I supposed to know?” 

“I could have told you! There was a big sign: ‘If you have an allergy, don’t hesitate to notify us’.”

“I mean, it’s not like I had a severe reaction. I just had red spots for a few days.”

“Uhu, but it hit your ego enough to call in sick for the next week or so I heard.”

Steve was relieved to find that they hadn’t lost their connection. They had just needed some alcohol to loosen up. 

“Okay,” Billy started, “Remember that time… when we were paired up in chemistry and you set your hair on fire?” Steve’s jaw clenched.

“_I_ was the one who set it on fire?”

“Are you saying _I_ did it?” 

“You set the burner way too high!”

“I’m not the one who emptied two cans of hairspray on your head, Harrington! You made your bed and it caught fire!” 

“Okay," Steve shifted on the couch and draped his arm across the top of the headrest. "What about the time you went down on me in the bathroom of the Daxton Hall dorms?” Billy took a swig from his wine, smacked his lips and blinked slowly. 

“Yeah, what about it?” He muttered with the most self-satisfied smirk. Steve pursed his lips and made a gesture.

“Well, that’s pretty embarrassing for you wasn’t it?” Billy’s face scrunched up.

“You’re the one who came after three seconds.” He snorted. “Should I be embarrassed about how sickeningly good I am at sucking you off?” 

“You swallowed my piss dick!” Steve shouted. “How is that not embarrassing to you?” 

“Maybe I’d been able to contain myself if you weren’t waving your dick in my face!”

“It’s a bathroom,” Steve deadpanned. “I was taking a piss. Do let me know if you figured out a way to do that without getting your dick out.” Billy took another sip before he replied.

“I stand by my stance that it was more embarrassing for you than for me.” Now that Steve was thinking about it, he was the one who had to wash his own jizz from his jeans and walk around with a wet spot for the rest of the night.

“Hm, maybe you’re right.” He swirled his drink.

“Such a weird way to start things off,” Steve muttered as he brought the glass to his lips. He’d had enough wine at this point to feel nice and fuzzy around the edges. Billy’s eyebrows curved into a frown.

“What do you mean?” He said. Steve made a face at him.

“I mean- it was fucking random, right? Like- _why? _What were you even thinking?” Steve's laugh faltered when he saw Billy’s expression. The man stared at him, eyebrows lowered, almost- hurt.

“It was just- a random blow job to you?” He whispered.

“Yeah?” Steve stammered. “I mean… I really didn't see it coming. We never did anything before that, right? It just happened kinda out of nowhere.” Billy's brows had sunk all the way to his lashline.

“But- I felt like we’d been working up to it since like- freshman year. Before that even.” Steve blinked. He felt the urge to clean his ears to see if he was hearing straight.

_“What?”_

“I was flirting with you the _whole time!” _Billy burst out laughing. “You’re telling me you didn’t notice?” Steve’s mouth fell open and there was no sign of him closing it anytime soon.

“Flirting _how?!_” 

“Was I not complimenting and touching you all the time?” Steve couldn’t tell if Billy was playing or if he was actually offended.

“No?” He wheezed. “You were fucking annoying. You got the whole frat house to call me ‘King Steve’!” Billy gave him a look before he brought his glass back to his lips. 

“Okay,” Steve snapped. “if that’s what you call flirting then don’t put it on me for not noticing. That was terrible tactic.”

“Oh,_ like you didn’t notice! _” Billy protested. 

“You’re claiming that it worked?” Steve raised an eyebrow.

“Well, we’re sitting here, aren’t we?” Billy replied, a little too loud. The room went dead silent.  
“Obviously not in _ that _ way.” He added with a nervous chuckle and quickly followed by another swallow. 

“Yeah, no. Obviously.” Steve muttering into his glass. Billy hummed and put his empty glass down.

“Wait, so you goggling me from your window when I was running in the morning, that wasn’t anything either?” He smirked as Steve’s face turned a new shade of pink. 

“You think I didn’t notice?” 

“That was _one_ time,” Steve muttered.

“Hmm no, of course. You just happened to be standing by your window whenever I passed by.” It wasn't an accusation. If anything it was just another 'Remember When', brought up in the guise of a tease but finished with a loving smile.

Remember when you used to watch me from your window like a creepy stalker?   
Remember how I let you? 

'Why did you let me?' Steve thought.

To spare my ego?  
To avoid confrontation?  
Because you liked it?  
Because you didn't mind?  
Why won't you ever say what you want to say?

“Why did you never say anything?” Steve whispered. Billy shrugged. His lips were curved but his eyes appeared sleepy, sentimental almost.

“I thought I didn’t have to.” 

“I’m surprised you just… didn’t feel it like that.” Billy mumbled, eyes cast to the ground.

“I wish I had,” Steve admitted. “I think I would have felt completely different about us hooking up if I’d known...” There was a long pause before either of them spoke again

“I’m sorry I never made you feel wanted.”

When Billy glanced up at Steve, his eyes so incredibly soft and intentful. As if he really wanted Steve to feel it.  
“That’s what it was, right?” He added. “When you said your reason was that you wanted to be chosen.”

Steve’s throat closed up. His instinct was to deny. To tell Billy it was okay. To pretend that he didn’t feel lonely when Billy left as soon as he came. How could he ever put blame when the guy was looking at him with those mournful eyes? 

“So…” Steve spoke slowly. “Sharon.” Her name did nothing to dissolve the tension in the room. Billy blinked and nodded. He seemed to get the hint. They were not to pretend as if this belonged anywhere other than the past. 

“Yeah she’s ah- she’s great.” He wore a tired smile that Steve couldn’t quite place. 

“How much does she know about...” he gestured back and forth between them. “...us.” Billy glanced down as he dug a hair through his curls. He’d undone the bun he wore at the funeral. It had grown to a length where the weight of the hair pulled his curls out into beach waves. He seemed to be taking good care of it, soft and shiny.

“Nothing about the stuff I think you’re talking about.” Billy replied. “‘S far as she knows we’re just basketball buds and nothing more than that.” Steve nodded absentmindedly. Somehow his mind circled around the use of ‘we’re’. Present tense. Did they ever really go back to being nothing more than basketball buds? It certainly didn’t feel like it. Maybe if that had been the case, he wouldn’t feel like he was holding his breath around the guy, like there was so much said between them that wasn’t said out loud. 

“Do you love her?” Steve blurted. Billy blinked at the suddenness of the question but he didn’t need a lot of time to think.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.” His voice was crisp and earnest. As if it were the first time he said it without a single grain of doubt in his mind. It was beautiful. This was good. Steve really wished he could be happy for him. 

He couldn’t blame Billy for moving on. It wasn’t like Steve himself hadn’t tried dating girls. It was just easier. With Sharon, Billy could hold hands on the street without the fear of getting his face beaten in. She could stand by his side at his father’s funeral and support as his partner. He wouldn’t have to call her his ‘friend’ or 'basketball buddy'. She could give him children and a safe, normal, conventional life. 

Sharon would be the one who got to love him every coming day. She got to wake up next to him in the morning while his lashes stuck to his cheek and his voice was deep and throaty and she’d never have to worry about him kicking her out. She got to stand next to him at parties watch the way his face moves when he talks animatedly to their mutual friends. 

She got to love him. She got to be loved by him. She was going to be his ‘someday’. 

And Billy was too in love to see the last bit of hope bleed out of Steve’s eyes.

“Do you want another?” Steve asked and found that they were halfway through their second bottle of the night. Billy shook his head.

“No, I should lay off.” he sighed as he leaned back into the couch. “I still have to drive back soon.” Steve frowned and put the bottle back down on the table.

“You drove here?” Concern was laced through his voice. “Dude, why didn’t you say something?” Billy waved the comment away.

“Don’t sweat it. Just give me some water and I’ll be good to go.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. You do seem woozy.” Billy rolled his eyes like a fucking teenager.

“Dude, I’ve been in a fraternity. My liver basically takes up half of my body. I can handle my booze, trust me.” 

“Billy, you’re _ clearly _ drunk.”

“Maybe I’m a _ little _drunk right now but I’ll have sobered up in like 30 minutes. I’ll be fine-” 

“Do you do this more often?” Steve's voice had grown stern. It was the same voice he used when a kid had clearly been chewing on the crayons. 

“Steve, I’m not a fucking_ baby_, alright? I know my fucking limits.” If Steve wasn’t genuinely concerned for Billy’s wellbeing, he might have found it cute how flustered Billy became when he got worked up.  
“Plus it’s fucking Hawkins. There isn’t a dog out on the streets at this hour.” Steve held his thought for a second before he replied.

“I’m not saying that you don’t,” he cast his eyes down. “I’m just saying that I don’t feel comfortable letting you drive off like this.” When he glanced back up, their eyes lingered a little longer than necessary. 

“Well, what do you suggest?” Billy dared, although the fire had left his voice. 

“This is a pull-out,” Steve patted the couch. “You can crash here.” Billy eyed the couch as he chewed on his cheek.

“I have to get up at 7 to catch the plane back to Toronto.”

“I can wake you up, make sure you get back on time.” A sleazy grin grew on Billy’s face.

“Sure hope your better at setting alarm clocks than I am.” He shifted in his seat. 

“Alright, erm… Could I make a call so I can discuss with Sharon?” Steve almost forgot. 

“Yeah, yeah totally. Erm- phone’s over there. Do you know the number? I don’t think I have it in my book but-”

“No, s’fine. I know the number.” Billy hoisted himself up. He grabbed hold of the armrest and blinked before he straightened himself all the way up. ‘Drunker than you thought, I see,’ Steve thought as Billy shuffled over to the phone. He wondered if he should take the guy's car keys. Last time they got drunk together didn't end to well and Billy really wasn't in the right state of mind to run away from the fight should things escalate. Steve didn't deem it likely but then again, neither had he expected their fight on the rooftop. They should probably just go to sleep before things had a chance to turn sour. 

Steve went upstairs to get the spare bedding. He tried his best not to listen in on the conversation but the house was quiet and there was only so much he could do to distract himself. 

“Hey, it’s Billy.” it sounded from downstairs.  
“Yeah, good. Hey, is Sharon up?”  
“Cool, can you get her for me?”  
“No, ’s nothing. I just might stay at Steve’s tonight.”   
“Yeah, I’ll see me in the morning before we leave. I mean, all my shit’s still there, so.”  
“Alright, thanks.” There was a moment of silence before Billy perked up again.

“Hey, babe,”  
“Yeah, I’m still at Steve’s. Hey, erm- I’ve been a bit stupid tonight. I had a little too much to drink. Steve thinks it’s best if I say here for the night.”  
“I know, I’m sorry.” They met eyes briefly when Steve came hopping down the stairs, obscured by the comforter and pillow in his arms. He dumped them on one of the chairs and stretched his back before he said back down on the couch. He spotted his glass on the table and decided he might as well finish it.

“No, I don’t think that’s necessary. I’ll just make sure to get up early tomorrow.” Billy laughed.  
“Yeah, I guess it’ll be my own fault.”   
“Uhu.”  
“Oh!” His voice jumped.   
“You’re sure?”   
“That’s amazing.”  
“Yeah, can’t wait.” He scuffed his shoe on the laminate floor.   
“Alright, talk to you in the morning, okay?”  
“Alright.” He smiled.

“Love you, too.”

  
With a loud grunt, he fell back into the couch. He sure didn’t look like a guy who just told his girlfriend he loves her. Somehow his eyes were distant. As if he wasn’t really there.  
“Whatcha thinking about,” Steve purred. Billy blinked and let out a hum.

“She says she’s started to feel the baby move.” His face barely moved as he spoke. 

“That’s good right?” Steve asked. Billy nodded. He snorted and scratched his head.

“Yeah, just- fucking weird.” He brushed another hand through his hair, toying with the ends of it.  
“You know every once in a while I have these… ‘oh my god… this is really happening’-moments. I guess I’m just- having one right now.” It wasn't that hard to tell, from the way he hung on the couch like sedated jellyfish.

“That makes sense, I guess.” Steve hummed.

“You know, no one ever warned me that becoming a dad would be so fucking terrifying!” Billy blurted. Steve’s eyes widened the slightest bit.

‘Oh… you’re definitely drunk,’ he thought as Billy continued his rant.

“I mean-“ he let out an aggravated sigh. “In five months there’s going to be an entirely new human person and they’re just going to be _stuck _with me. And Sharon is _stuck _with me- she didn’t _ask_ for any of this! I don’t know how that hell I’m supposed to be a dad. I mean what am I supposed to know about fathering. ‘S not like my piece of shit dad ever gave me a fucking lead.” 

“I mean,” Steve tried, speaking slow and carefully. “At his funeral, it sounded like you had one or two good things to say about him.” Billy scoffed.

“Oh please, Sharon wrote the whole thing for me. I couldn’t muster a good word about that guy.” ‘Oh.’ Steve thought, ‘Well, that sort of explains.’ 

“I’m really mad at him.” Billy didn’t sound it. He had propped one elbow up on the backrest of the couch, leaning his head into his palm. He looked tired. Not just ‘I’ve had a long day’-tired but life-tired. The kind that you can’t just sleep off. 

“I mean god forbid I become anything like him.” He whispered.

“You won’t.” 

“You don’t know that...” Billy’s eyes were drooping. Steve felt incredibly tempted to reach out and dig his fingers through Billy’s long curls. He could almost hear the soft, content hums that would pass the guy’s lips as he would lean into the touch. 

“I think you should remember that…” he spoke slowly. “it’s not like you have to know everything as soon as your kid is born. Like-” he sat up. “Speaking from experience, newborns might not always be fun, but when it comes down to it, babies, especially newborns, have _ very _ few problems and you can almost always fix them.”

"Yeah?" Billy slurred. "Like what?"

“Well, they're either hungry, they shat themselves, they’re too hot or too cold or they want a hug. And that’s it. Just work down that list and nine out of ten times they’ll stop crying.”

“What about the tenth time?” Billy had opened his eyes.

“The tenth time...” Steve’s face softened. “They’re just upset. And you can’t figure out why. They will just keep crying until they tire themselves out. Sometimes they will just cry for hours on end and they’ll cry as if they’re on _fire_. Even when nothing’s wrong. All you can really do is keep faith that they’ll be okay. Because- as a parent or a caretaker- your instinct will tell you to soothe the baby and make sure they are okay and when you can’t do that- it can kind of feel like you’re failing them… but sometimes the bravest thing you can do is just… stand by and... do nothing.” 

There was an unsettling hollowness in Billy’s eyes. For a moment, Steve wondered when Billy had tuned out and stopped listening. Or if he had been listening at all. 

[ **[Disappear - Beabadoobee]** ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EauYea9MyLE)

In one swift movement, Billy had closed the distance between them and put his mouth on Steve’s. Nothing about this was random. It was all so familiar. His scent. His taste. His movements. For a second it felt like they were back on the bed again, in the college room with the Metallica posters and the winter howling outside the single pane window. 

“Billy,” Steve tried, making careful attempts to push the other man off of him. 

“Shut up,” Billy hissed. Steve felt wetness on his cheeks. They weren’t his tears.

“We really shouldn’t do this,” Steve breathed into the other man’s mouth.

“Shut up,” Billy repeated. In between kisses, he said: “It’s my shit dad’s funeral - and I - wanna do things - that would disgust him.” Billy’s hand had found its way to the nape of Steve’s neck and squeezed. Steve about melted. It angered him how well Billy knew him, how he played him like a skilled violinist. He allowed Billy to lean him back onto the couch until his head was on the armrest and Billy was on top of him.

He hated himself for it, but he wanted it.

He wanted Billy to use him. The way they had used each other back in college, just to get off when the nights were cold. He wanted to be Billy’s antidote for loneliness. Even if it was just for the night. Even if it only lasted for the length of the session. Even if he was already regretting what he was doing.

So he didn’t stop Billy’s nimble hands as they stuttered over the hem of Steve’s sweater. He even helped him pull the thing over his head. Their mouths collided hungrily as soon as the sweater was off, teeth clashing, hands trailing over the newly exposed skin. It was messy and impatient and it had nothing to do with love. 

More clothes came off. Steve had chest hair that hadn’t been there before. Billy had a few new tattoos. Steve didn’t get a good look at them. 

It was so wrong.   
It was so wrong. 

“Where’s your bedroom?” 

They stumbled through the hallway, up the stairs, kissing and touching as if the other might vaporize the second they pulled apart. Every step felt like sinking deeper into Billy's quicksand. Steve tried to think of Sharon, how blindly she had trusted him to take care of her man for tonight. Take care of him. Ha. He wished he felt any remorse. 

‘Maybe that’s the difference between me and Sharon,’ Steve thought as Billy threw him down on the mattress. He craned his head back to give Billy access to his collarbone and gasped when Billy’s warm lips found their way onto his skin. ‘She gets your tenderness and I get the messy. She’s your girl and I am your side chick. She brings out the best in you while you need me to get out your worst.’ 

Soft whines escaped his lips as the other man bit at his skin as if Steve was a meal and he was running late. Billy’s lips moved down over Steve’s chest, pausing to suck at his nipple. The moan Steve let out was bordering on obscene. Billy still remembered how much it used to turn him on. 

And Steve wanted it. He wanted to become undone just by Billy’s mouth on his chest. He felt Billy’s hand slip towards the button of his jeans. A hand was sliding into his boxers. 

But this was much more than a scraped knee. This was not something you could kiss better.

“Billy,” Steve breathed into his basketball buddy’s mouth. “We should stop.” Billy opened his eyes.

“I want you.” He whispered and ducked down to catch Steve’s lips again. Steve had to close his eyes because he knew he couldn’t say this while looking Billy in the eye.

“You’re drunk and you want someone.” Every word felt like a dagger he that he took to his own chest. For a moment there was only the sound of ragged breathing.

“I want _ you _.” Billy’s voice was quivering. It sounded almost like a plea this time. Steve cupped the boy’s cheeks while he tried desperately to keep his brave face on.

“And- I’m here,” he hiccuped. “but... not like this.”

The intensity of hurt and betrayal in Billy’s eyes brought Steve to tears. For a moment he feared that Billy might get violent and hit him. But the boy closed his eyes, tears spilling out over his cheeks as he leaned, heavily, into Steve’s touch. Like an ancient structure, weathered by the abuse of the elements, Billy collapsed in on himself. And Steve caught him. His arms wound around Billy’s back when the boy fell apart on Steve’s chest. An angry, primal cry ruptured Billy’s throat and he sobbed. Everything poured out of him like a quarry draining from a broken dam. All the pain from so many years ago, the pains of yesterday and the pains of now, all drowning each other out. All Steve could do was lay there, hold him, do nothing and trust that everything was going to be okay. 

//

They had fallen asleep with the lights on. Outside the world was still dark. Steve rubbed his eyes and plucked his alarm clock from the nightstand. 

05:47

73 minutes before Billy had to leave this bed. A cold sensation washed over Steve. He rolled over to find that the guy was still laying on the other side of his bed. He was there, solid and real. It hadn’t been a dream. Steve's heart returned to its normal rhythm. Still, he didn’t know whether or not to be happy about the reality of their situation.

Billy slept on his side with his back turned to Steve, ribs expanding with every breath. For the first time, Steve noticed the tiger on Billy’s shoulder. I was just the head, mid roar in a traditional American tattoo style, thick lines and gradient shading. With a tentative hand, Steve reached out to touch the warm skin. Billy didn't stir. As he traced the linework, Steve wondered what the tiger meant, if it meant anything, where Billy had gotten it, if he had gone alone, if it was planned or if he did it on a whim. He wondered about everything that had happened to Billy’s body while he'd been away.

Steve snuck his arm under Billy’s and draped his hand across his friend’s chest. With his chest pressed to Billy’s back, he buried his nose in messy curls. Oh, how good it felt to feel another man’s body against his. It wasn’t like he hadn’t had anyone to touch since he came back to Hawkins, but girls were just- different. Girls were soft and kneadable. They were like a warm bath after a long day but men- _ Billy _ ... that was just a whole different story. The guy was like a wild cat in that way, all firm muscles, heavy paws. Unmovable, unmalleable and _ warm_. Lying skin to skin with Billy felt like coming home for the first time in this apartment.

It seemed almost unthinkable that it was only the second time they had shared a bed in the innocent sense of the word. It felt so familiar. And yet Steve knew that they could never talk about this night ever again. It simply hadn’t happened. The same way Billy had proposed they forgot that one cursed blowjob in the bathroom that had brought them to where they were today.

[ **[Angus & Julia Stone - Stay With Me]** ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X2JqsNI404k)

‘I don’t want to pretend you didn’t happen to me,’ Steve thought, while his fingers danced over the scar tissue on Billy’s stomach. ‘I don’t want you to try and forget about me.’ 

Steve pretended for a moment that he could have this. Tomorrow and the day after that. That they were the last two people in the world. That there was nobody to judge. That Billy would be there when he got home, that he would ask him about his day. That he would have someone to share all his stories with. To make dinner with. Someone to hold when the lights went off. He wished that the morning didn’t have to come. That Billy wouldn’t get up and leave him for someone else. For his new life. 

But Billy would never choose him. 

He’d already chosen someone else.

“Steve,” Billy croaked, almost inaudibly “What are we doing?” 

“Just… sleeping.” Steve mumbled into his hair. For a moment he thought Billy had fallen back asleep until the boy whispered back. 

“I have a girl. And a baby.” 

Steve held his breath.

“I know.” 

//

[[FINNEAS - Life Moves On]](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YpnWnpfJVq4)

Steve spent a lot of the following days lost in his own thoughts. He knew he made the right call not to sleep with Billy, but he couldn’t shake the mourning that came with the realization that he had kissed Billy for the last time. That Billy had moved on and was now going to build a family without Steve in it. It took him some time to grieve the future he never had. Thankfully he had his kids to keep busy. But after a few weeks of nursing his wounds, he found that he felt lighter than he had in years.

Billy was past tense now. The door had fully closed. Steve threw away the phone number Max had given him. He should give Billy the space that he needed. It would have been selfish of him would keep reminding Billy of their past. He deserved to move on. To live past Hawkins, past Steve.

It was okay.

For the first time in months, Steve could envision his and Billy’s futures as separate. He was becoming okay with the idea that they had hit a fork in the road where they would both go their separate ways. Maybe their paths would cross at some point or maybe they would never meet again. He would be okay.

Of course, this exact thing had happened to Steve many times before, most often without him even noticing. There were plenty of people who Steve used to see daily and hadn’t talked to in forever. He would probably never see his classmates from Bloomington again and he didn’t even consider it a loss. There were kids in his daycare that moved on to primary school and their name would get lost in Steve’s mind, replaced by those of new pupils. 

Life, Steve figured, is like a box of somedays. You never know which one you are going to get.   
And sometimes, you just have to pick one, bite in and make the best of what you chose.

//

**May 23th, 1990**

“Harrington!” Steve turned around at the booming sound of the familiar voice. His face went slack, then burst out in the stupidest grin when he spotted Billy and Susan sitting a few rows behind him.

“Hargroovee-” He was mid-chant when his jaw nearly dropped to the floor.  
“What the fuck did you do to your hair?!” Billy frowned, touched his head before the gears fell into place.

“Oh! Yeah, I cut it!”

“It looks good!” Billy waved him over.

“Come sit with us!” Steve glanced back and forth a few times before he got up and excused himself to the people next to him as they tucked their feet to let him pass through. The ceremony had started by the time Steve landed in the chair next to Billy.

“When did all of this happen?” He gestures at Billy’s appearance, only slightly out of breath. Billy roughed up his hair, smiling giddily. “Aah, a while back. I’ve had it like this for… six months? Eight? I haven’t kept track.” He laughed. He had traded his mullet in for a neat side trim, unruly curls at the top. But that wasn’t the only thing he changed. 

Steve wasn’t kidding when he said the guy looked good. He looked absolutely radiant. Incredibly tan, almost like he did when he first arrived in Hawkins. There were freckles dotted all over his nose and cheeks. Steve was so enamored by the sight of him that he completely forgot that it’s rude to stare. But Billy held back his grin and allowed himself to be taken in, eyes following Steve’s as they wandered all over Billy’s features. 

“It’s wow. I can see your _ ears _ now.” Steve whispered, eyes still wide with disbelieve. He had the urge to touch them but stopped himself before he actually lifted his hand. Billy’s speckled nose scrunched up as he laughed.

“That’s what you find most exciting?” He snorted.. ‘Oh, there are plenty of things that excite me about you…’ Steve thought, eyes trailing down to the tuft of chest hair the peeked out over Billy’s eternally unbuttoned dress shirt. The thought was cut off when the crowd started clapping. The dean lifted his hand politely as mounted the stage. 

“How long has it been? A year? Two years?” Steve asked while the room quieted down. Billy blew up his cheeks, eyes on the podium while the man started speaking. 

“Oh must have been, two- no… no, it’s- Wait, my dad died in February last year-“ he waved his index finger around as if he was tracing over a calendar. “So it’s a year and a bit. Yeah, because… Mars is turning one soon so it must have been over a year.” 

“Mars?” Steve repeated. 

“My kid!” Billy exclaimed. If he hadn’t been beaming before, he sure as hell was now. Steve’s mouth turned into a perfect ‘o’. He shouldn’t be at all surprised that Billy would give his kid a name as stupid as ‘Mars’. Although it didn’t seem out of character for Shanon either.

“Oh- dUH! Of course! How is he? How’s Shanon?” It was a lot easier to say her name than the last time. It barely even stung to see the wistful look in Billy’s eyes at the mention of their names. But it was only a pinch compared to how Steve had felt a year ago. He started to believe that maybe Billy and he could be friends again. Without any of the fiction or the drama. That it could just be good. This felt good. It was nice to know him again. 

“Mars is perfect.” Billy sighed. “He’s such a bright little man. Sharon’s good as well." 'Oh, right. _Sharon, _not Shanon,' Steve noted.  
"We’re not together anymore, but we’re good,” Billy added. Steve blinked.

“Really? You seemed so happy together when I last saw you.” He whispered once the valedictorian was welcomed onto the stage.

“We were.” Billy agreed. “I guess life just... lead us down different paths. It was good until it wasn’t, so we put an end to things.” Someone turned around to glare at them. The boys put their hands up as a gesture of apology before the man turned back around and shook his head. They listened for maybe thirty more seconds of the valedictorian stumbling over her words before Billy leaned in for Steve’s ear again. 

“Do you want to see a picture?” Steve paused to stare.

“Picture of what?” He stated blankly. Billy cackled, earning another few glares from the people around them.

“Of _my son_. Get your mind out of the gutter.” ‘My son,’ Steve repeated to himself. Billy had a son. The guy pulled a leather wallet from the inside his jacket and flipped it open to show Steve a picture of himself holding a baby. 

“He looks like his father, right?” Susan chimed in with an adoring smile.

“He does, holy cow!” Steve whispered as he took the wallet from Billy’s hands. It was a picture of them on the beach. Billy stood waist-deep in the water, holding a baby at his hip with one arm as if it was his second nature. But the face is what really struck him. 

At 24 going on 25, Steve was at an age where more than a few of his friends and cousins were settling down and having kids of their own. Whenever he came to visit a newborn, he was typically asked if the baby 'didn’t just look like a carbon copy of [insert name of either parent]'. At that point, Steve had learned that it was best to just nod along and agree wholeheartedly with everything the new parents had to say about their offspring. 

But with Mars, the similarity was truly frightening. He had the same exact eyes as his father. The shape of them, the lashes that didn’t seem to end. Ash white curls. And the same bright smile, if only without the teeth. Steve looked back at Billy in the picture. He was laughing, squinting his eyes against the setting sun. He looked happy.

“He’s adorable,” Steve said and handed the wallet back to a beaming Billy. 

“He’s the sweetest, isn’t he?” Billy put his wallet away. “He’s started to walk just now. Not by himself, but he loves to take trips around the couch and stuff, like- he’ll scale the walls and that type of thing-” 

“Will you guys show some respect?” The man in front of them hissed. The young men mumbled their excuses, met eyes and giggled like school girls once the man had turned back around. They watched the rest of the ceremony in silence, only to jump up screaming when ‘Byers, Will’ was called onto the stage. But when they sat back down, Billy’s knee was leaning against Steve’s. It would find its way back there after every single one of their kids. 

They met up with them afterward, hugging and congratulating each and every one of them. 

“Thanks for coming, man!” Dustin grinned when Steve pulled back. A faint sweetness washed over Steve when he noticed stumbles on the boy's chin.

“Dude, you didn’t even _shave _for your graduation? What kinda hobo are you? C’mon kid, step it up!” He pestered and scratched the boy’s patchy sideburns. 

“I know! I know!” Dustin whined as slapped Steve's hands away. “I just didn’t want to have any cuts in my picture so I didn’t take the risk.”

“You get that a lot?” Steve frowned. “What kinda razor do you use?”

“I don’t know? Just- the standard stuff. My mom buys them.”

“How many blades?”

“They can have multiple blades?”

“D’- yes! Yes, you need at least two blades. Preferably three. Alright, I know what you’re getting as a graduation present.” Dustin flipped him off, but couldn’t fight his smile. 

“Deal,” he mumbled, just as Max called his name.

“Dustin! Are you coming or what?”

“Just a sec!” He screamed before he turned back to Steve.  
“Sorry. We said we were gonna hang out and go to Benny’s after.” He was quick to add: “But you can come with if you want!” Dustin’s eyes were both hopeful and hesitant. 

Steve smiled. He knew that look. It was the same way he must have looked at Sharon when he asked her over for dinner. He got it. This was not for him. Although he was sure that Dustin would like having him there, it just wouldn’t be the same as hanging out with the Party for one last time before they all went off to college. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Steve assured him. “You go hang out with your gang.” Dustin gave him a look over. 

“You sure?” Steve smiled lazily.

“I’ll be in town for another few days. You free on Thursday?” Dustin grinned wide and proud.

“I’ll let mom know you’ll be over.” Steve leaned in and whispered:

“Tell her to make the casserole.”

He watched from a distance as the kids got in their cars. They would go somewhere, get drunk on booze they stole from their parents and play their own games of ‘Remember That Time When’, exchanging stories belonged solely to them. They were starting their lives and leaving Hawkins behind. They would be back of course. Everyone always came back. 

But for tonight, they should relish in being older than they had even been while Steve knew them to be younger than they would ever be. Tonight was for them. 

Steve didn’t know that Billy had been watching him watch the kids from only a few feet behind. He wandered up to Steve as the cars pulled out of the school’s parking lot. The terrain was slowly draining as everyone went home, to friends or family to celebrate. Steve turned around at the sound of footsteps and smiled when he saw Billy approaching.

“So,” Steve blinked against the brightness of the summer afternoon. “Just us then.” Billy grinned and Steve swore he outshone the sun. 

“Just us,” Billy affirmed. There was an awkward pause, scuffing of shoes, tentative thoughts that weren’t ready to be spoken just yet. 

“I don’t have any plans for the rest of the day.” Steve tried not to sound too eager. 

“Yeah, me neither, so-” Billy brought a hand to his lips. “I don’t know if you still have that place on Mulberry or...” Steve stook his hands in his pockets.

“Erm- I don’t. I don’t technically live here anymore.”

“Really?” Billy frowned curiously. “Where’d you go?”

“Erm- I’m back at school actually.” Billy’s eyebrows rose to comical heights, a smile creeping across his face. 

“Yeah, I know!” Steve laughed.

“You’re for real?”

“Yeah, just finished my first year and eeh- yeah, it’s been good. Tough cookie, still, but erm-” It was hard to look Billy directly in the eye. There was so much genuine joy beaming out of that boy- that _man_. It was kind of overwhelming.  
“You know, what I’m doing now- it’s much more practical. Like- all that business stuff I did at Bloomington was just guys in suits coming up with long words to talk about nothing. This fits me so much better.”

“I’m glad,” A sparkle grew in Billy’s eye. “That’s awesome, dude. I wanna hear all about it.” The early summers' breeze played with his curls. Just another thing that reminded Steve that Billy was _really_ there, that he wasn't projecting or dreaming this up. It seemed unreal, this beautiful day, this beautiful man. Billy worked his jaw as if he was holding onto a thought. 

“I never showed you that spot at the quarry, did I?” A look of realization crossed Steve’s face. 

“No, I don’t think so.”

“You wanna go?” Billy asked, “Bet it’s beautiful there ‘round this time of year.”

“I’m- yeah, let’s do it.” Steve’s smile split into a grin.

“I think we can just walk from here.”

“Sounds good.” 

//

When Billy said he knew a shortcut Steve didn’t think that he meant straight through the woods. He wasn’t exactly dressed for a hike but these shoes were old anyway and it being a beautiful early summer’s day and all, it wasn’t too bad. The afternoon sun turned the leaves to a luminous shade of green. Apart from the sounds of nature and the crunching of their shoes, the woods lingered in a quiet that felt old as time itself.

“So tell me about college,” Billy said after they had set their course. “What are you studying?”

“Erm- Pedagogy,” Steve replied.

“Really? So like- kid psychology?” 

“Eh, yeah. Basically. It’s a psychology major, so- you’re not wrong.” Steve had to watch his feet to make sure he didn’t trip over a branch. 

“I just, er- I had a few reasons why I wanted to go back. One was just because I heard my coworkers talk about all these, these things they learned in school. How to approach certain situations. Some developmental stuff. So I thought it would just- make me better at the job I was already doing.” Billy nodded along as Steve spoke.  
“And… you know,” Steve sighed. “There’s a lot wrong with just- youth care and how things are organized. I mean- I don’t have to tell you. You’ve been in foster care, right?” 

“Oh yeah,” he snarked. “Loved every second of it.”

“That’s what I mean. It’s just- terrible for everyone involved. But-” Steve took another breath. “No one is going to listen to some kid with an opinion, so- I figured if I wanna get a degree, get more experience, maybe work myself up and see if I can do something about it. Just- see if I can make it a little less fucked up.”

“That’s awesome. That’s so cool that you’re… you know, you’re standing up for that sorta stuff.” Billy thought for a second before he asked.  
“Have you worked with foster kids?”

“Hmm, not really. Just- there was this kid. I was kinda suspicious of his home situation. He kept coming in with bruises and... It's something you know. Like- you can tell when a kid is off, when they don't want to go home, the way he was around the other kids- It just didn't sit right with me. But I was advised not to step to the police because there was a significant chance he would be taken from the home and placed with a foster family who just wouldn’t be able to handle him. And...” Steve shook his head. “That’s when I realized, you know? I can’t just watch this happen. Maybe I’m idealistic, but this needs to change.”

“Yeah, agreed.” Billy nodded. His eyes lingered over Steve, even though the other man was mostly watching his own feet.  
“Are you liking it so far? College, I mean.” Billy asked.

“Yeah!” Steve sounded surprised by his own answer. “You know, I still struggle with the theoretical stuff sometimes. I don’t do- _too_ well at standardized tests, but like- I’ve aced some of the oral exams and stuff so...”

“Hey, that’s awesome!” Billy beamed. Steve tucked his chin as he laughed. The radiance of Billy’s eyes made him cower away as if he was struck by stage lights.

“But what about you? Did you end up taking the NASA internship?” Billy laughed as if Steve just told him a joke he had heard before but forgotten the punchline to.

“Oh, damn. Funny you should ask.” Billy slowed down his pace and scratched at the short hairs at the back of his head. “That’s quite the story actually...” His chin was tilted up, mentally rewinding to a place to begin. 

“You remember Lyall Weinstein?” He asked as he averted his eyes back at Steve. Recognition crossed Steve’s face.

“Oh, yeah! He was your roommate, right? How’s he doing?”

“Pff, I don’t know. Haven’t spoken to him in a long time.” Billy muttered as he climbed over a fallen tree that had gotten in their way. “Last thing I heard from him, he was trying to set up some kind of subscription box service.” Steve stopped in his tracks.

“A what?” Billy turned around and planted his hands on his sides.

“Okay, so- he used to go _on and on _about this when we were in college, but basically Lyall believes that in the future no one is going to go to shops anymore. Malls will be as good as dead. And instead, we’ll have everything delivered to our doorstep on a weekly or monthly basis.” Steve frowned.

“So like… kind of like the milkman?”

“Yes, but with everything,” Billy explained as he picked up his pace. “So groceries, but also underwear, dog treats, contact lenses, condoms, razor blades, everything you can think of. He thinks there’s going to be a whole market of these subscription boxes that deliver those kinds of everyday ‘necessities’ to your doorstep so you don’t have to remember to buy them.”

“that’s so dumb,” Steve muttered as he hoisted himself over the tree trunk. Billy reached out so Steve could grab his hand before he jumped down.

“It’s really fucking dumb,” Billy laughed. “If I ever get a subscription on razor blades, you have my permission to shoot me.” Steve let out a soft grunt when his feet his the forest lining. ‘I’ll remember that if I ever learn how to fire a gun,’ Steve thought.

“Anyhow- Lyall. I believe I told you about his affair with Mrs. Cooney, right?” Steve paused for a moment.

“That does sound familiar.”

“Okay, so they had an affair. Shit got out. There had been a rumor for a while but at some point, it gained enough traction for the board to put Mrs. Cooney on the spot and apparently she came clean. So she got fired and Lyall was almost expelled, _ hadn’t _his parents been such generous investors in the school’s classical music program. Either way, he got off relatively shot free, just had to do some community work, but he was pissed as hell. And because he and I had had a fight over something dumb the week before the rumor got heated, he thought I was the one who ratted him out. So he decided to get back at me. So what he did…” Billy’s voice trailed off. “He told the whole basketball team that I’m a homo, that I’d been fucking a new guy in our dorm every other day and that I’d even made a move on him a few times.” A sudden coldness spread through Steve’s chest.

“He did what now?” Billy offered him a strained grin. 

“I'm still convinced that it was his own fault. He ran his mouth to literally anyone who would listen, so it was only a matter of time before they got caught, really. But still, you can imagine it did not go down well for me.” He kicked a rock on their path. “Guys cornered me after practice and punched my lights out, then went to the coach and said they didn’t feel comfortable playing with me anymore and that it was either me or them.” Billy sighed deep and tired.

“And I _ get it. _ As a coach, if you have to pick between losing one or five of your players, you pick the one. So I got kicked off the team which meant no more scholarship which meant no more college and which meant goodbye NASA internship.” Steve tried to let it sink in, that Lyall took everything from Billy just because he had a _ feeling _that Billy had snitched on him. He swore he got the guy pegged wrong but maybe guys like Lyall were just what it said on the tin.

“They can’t do that, right?" Steve's face scrunched up in disgust. "They can’t just- bully you out of your degree?” Billy swallowed,

“A little guy like me doesn’t have anything to hold over their heads, so…” his expression grew solemn.

“Thing is... I’ve found that people don’t have much of a problem taking things from people who don’t have a lot. A guy like Lyall… he’s had every single advantage you can have in life. He comes from a rich family, good looks, physically talented… so when his affair with Cooney came out, people felt _bad for him_. Because he had so much ‘potential’. He was gonna go so far! He has all these ‘radical ideas that could transform the consumers market’!” Billy rolled his eyes.  
“When a guy like me breaks a rule, someone practically came from nothing and had to work his way up, people figure ‘well, you probably didn’t deserve this in the first place’. And like that...” He made an explosion gesture. “Bye-bye scholarship.” There was a tightness in his face, a look in his eyes that said ‘Yeah, the world’s not fair. But when has it ever been?’

“So then I had to explain to Sharon that I wasn’t going to finish school and that we needed a plan B. And obviously she was upset and kept asking me if I was gay.” He sighed. “And I kept telling her _ no_ and that I definitely really loved her and I wasn’t faking it, but- you know- then she asked if anything happened while we - so me and her - since we were together and…” He bit his lip. “I think she just knew. I tried to lie about it, but I was already half caught between coming clean and covering up, so she saw right through me.”

“Did you tell her what happened… that night of your dad’s funeral?” Steve asked, heart the inches away from beating out of his chest.

“I didn’t have to. I mean she guessed it was you, so I think she connected the dots.”

“How old was Mars at this point?”

“He wasn’t even born.”

“Holy shit.” Steve breathed.

“Yeah, well, then I decided to make things just a little worse for myself.” Billy’s strides came to a stop. He hesitated to meet Steve's eyes.

“I erm- kinda skipped town.” Steve’s eyes widened. Billy scuffed his dress shoe on the dirt.

“Yeah, I’m definitely not proud of it.” 

“You left?” Steve repeated rather harshly. “While she was still pregnant?” Billy nodded.

“I left.” He waited for Steve to respond, eyes both fearful and complacent. As if he was fully prepared for Steve to blow up in his face. Steve didn’t know what the hell to say to the guy. At least he didn’t try to defend himself. At least he seemed to know that he fucked up. 

“Might have been the biggest mistake of my life,” Billy said. “Might have been the best choice ever made. I’m definitely not proud of it, but there’s very little I can do about it now.” His eyes were soft but unwavering. There was something about who he was in that moment. So fully there, in everything he was and wasn’t. 

“Wrote her a note,” Billy resumed his pace. “Left all of my dad’s inheritance at the dinner table and then I just- drove off.” 

“Where did you go to?” Steve’s voice had been reduced to an astounded hum.

“Cali. To find my mom.” Billy replied. Steve’s eyebrows shot up.

“Your mom? Did you find her?” Billy glanced away and licked his lips before he looked back at Steve.

“Eh, long story short: yes.”

“And what’s the long story?” Billy laughed.

“Dude, the long story is enough to write a _ novel _about. I’ll tell you another time.”

“Okay, but-“ Steve took a few big strides to catch up with Billy, who was still only walking at a leisurely pace. “So you found your mom…” Billy nodded. “What- what was she like? Was it good?”

“She’s… she’s the best. She’s an amazing woman.” He paused. “I really missed out.”  
“I also met Max’s dad while I was there. Such a rad guy as well. Got on like a house on fire. He set me up for this job at his garage. The man buys old cars and then he fixes them up to resell them. It’s amazing. So I’ve been doing that. And while working there I found out- You know, not to brag, but I’m actually really good at sales." He smirked. "So like… talking to the customers, finding the right car for them. So I actually got a job offer at an Audi dealership not too long ago.” Steve’s eyebrows jumped to his hairline. 

“Yeah, I know!” Billy laughed.

“They _ offered _ you a job?!” It might not have been NASA, but Audi was still a pretty big deal.

“I know! I’m still thinking about it though. Because I love the garage but career-wise… Audi is a great opportunity. Right now I don’t have a college degree to fall back on, but in sales, they don’t really care where you come from as long as you give them the results, so... If I can work my way up there I can still have a shot at a somewhat stable career. Might also mean that I get to move upstate. Right now I still drive up and down from San Francisco to Vancouver to see Mars, but if I can get a position somewhere in Seattle it would make visiting so much easier.”

“So yeah," Billy sighed. "life’s good. You know- the past year has been fucking wild, but it feels like for the first time in my whole life I’m actually in control of what I’m doing and where I’m going. Like- I’m doing something I like. I have a place. I have a baby.” When Billy smiled, he didn’t just do it with his lips or his face. He smiled out of his entire body. As if his happiness simply couldn’t be contained. 

"I'm surprised she still lets you see him after you made that move on her." Steve couldn't help by mutter. Billy's disappeared between his teeth.

"To be honest, so am I. But you know, we talked about it for a long time. We don't agree on a lot of things, but at least we agree that Mars shouldn't grow up believing he only has one parent who loves him." His smile broke out again. As if the love he felt for his kid simply couldn't be contained. Its light would shine through the darkest clouds. He would drive all the way from Cali to British Columbia if it meant he could see him for a few days.  
“To be a dad, it’s… It’s the most surreal thing that’s ever happened to me. I never expected it to feel this good. Seriously, the day he was born… _ Nothing _can quite describe what it’s like to hold your kid for the first time. It’s kind of like…” He squinted his eyes. “It’s as if someone you loved all your life has suddenly died - only the other way around...” Billy’s voice trailed off as they stepped into the clearing.

“Wow...” Steve whispered.

** [[The Lighthouse and The Whaler - Iron Doors]](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7T7CoeGLtuo) **

‘Breathtaking’ would not do the view justice. As the sun was climbing down towards the horizon, the quarry seemed to be filled with gold. Shimmering, dancing liquid gold cast on the backdrop of rocks, trees and lilac sky. 

“This is- I don’t even have the words!” Steve laughed and gasped. Billy watched him with sparks in his eyes.

“You haven’t seen the best of it,” He grinned. “Come on.”

The Hawkins quarry was shaped like a kidney bean, with a path craved out around the inside all the way down to the water's edge. First, they had to walk around the edge of the rocks to get to the entrance of the path after which they started their way down, gravel rattling under their feet as they went. 

“Is this where you took all your dates?” Steve shouted as he followed Billy down the meandering path. “Bet you got laid here by the dozens, didn’t you?” Billy laughed and shook his head.

“You don’t fuck in the place you go to think! That’s basic mental hygiene!” The air was cooling down. A fresh breath of wind blew through Steve's shirt and send a chill down his neck. It was still doable, but he had known he was going to stay out this long, he might have brought a jacket. Billy halted his steps. 

"This is it," He announced. Steve glanced over the water as it danced beneath them. There were a little over half-way down the path, 70 above the water and 50 feet under ground-level. Billy sat down at the edge of the path and scooted forward until his legs were dangling off the edge. Steve's heart started palpitating at the mere thought and sight of being so close to the gaping chasm. Billy glanced over his shoulder. "Come on," His tone was gentle, reassuring. And although Steve couldn't shake the knot in his stomach, he joined Billy at the quarry's edge. 

Billy had been right. The water looked even more alluring from closer up, almost menacing when Steve's feet dangled above it and nothing but the air in between. He feared that if he leaned forward, he might tumble into the nothingness.

Billy planted his elbows in the gravel and tipped his chin back.   
"You see that?" He pointed at the place where the rock above them touched the sky. "That's where we were five minutes ago." He glanced back over the water.   
"From that angle, no one can see you sitting here. 'S like you're invisible to the world." 

“Have you ever jumped down from here?” Steve asked after a little while. Billy stared at him with scrutinizing eyes.

“Noo, dude! You'd die! If you survived the fall you might still die of hypothermia.”

“It’s that cold?” Billy chuckled. 

“Yeah? It’s too deep. Water never gets heated up by the sun, even on days like this.” He paused, ground his teeth as his eyes didn't waver.  
“People never told you that?” Steve shrugged.

“My parents have a pool. Never needed the quarry.” Billy turned his eyes skywards. 

“Of course you didn’t, you preppy bastard.” He smiled smugly.

Without either of them noticing, they slipped into a comfortable silence, listening to the sounds of nature and the rustling of the wind as the sun had moved down far enough to tickle the tops of the trees.

“You know, I tried to take Sharon here when we were in Hawkins for my dad’s funeral, but she was too tired and didn’t wanna go.” He turned to look at Steve.  
“So you’re actually the first- person I've taken here.” It didn't get lost on Steve how Billy had stumbled over the word 'person' as if he's changed the course of his sentence at the last second and tripped over the word. 

What am I, Billy?  
Am I a person?  
A friend?  
A date?

“Why did you want me to meet you down here? Back in December?” His tone was quiet like it was a thought that slipped out prematurely.

“Because... I felt like I had to let you in,” It sounded like a guess. “Maybe I thought that if I trust you with my secret place, it would earn me some trust from you. I don’t remember to be honest. It feels like ages ago.” Steve took a deep breath, as he worked up the courage to voice what he had tried to imply with his last question.

“Why are you taking me here today?” Billy blinked slowly and gazed out over the shimmering waters.

“Because... I always knew that I wasn't supposed to keep this to myself. Every time I came here, I always knew that I had to share it with someone someday.” He paused. “I guess I was waiting until I’d found someone who would love it for the same reasons as I do without trying to impress me.”

[ **[dodie - Arms Unfolding]** ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5aW8ZN43UMA)

There was something about who Billy was in that moment. How he seemed so unmovable and at peace with himself, so solid in everything he was. It was as if the person Steve had loved all his life had just appeared next to him. It came to him like a gentle whisper, an indescribable sense of recognition. 

‘Oh hey,’ a little voice inside Steve’s head whispered at the sight of Billy’s profile while the man looked out over the quarry. The blue of his eyes. The freckles on his cheeks. His surprisingly small ears. It was all so familiar. He could feel himself falling in love with every little thing he saw and couldn’t wait to discover all the things he hadn’t noticed yet. 

‘There you are.’ The voice whispered  
‘I’ve been waiting for you.’ 

Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was stood on a precipice, toes leaning over the edge. Was he about to make a huge mistake? Would it be wrong to trust Billy after everything he’d done, every reason he had given Steve to run away?  
‘It’s not as if I’ve been an angel,’ Steve thought. ‘At least we deserve each other.'

Maybe they deserved a fresh start. Pretend like they were meeting for the first time.

“Can I ask you a question?” Steve asked, a hint of wonder wavering in his voice. Billy turned to him, a gentle smile growing on his lips. 

It’s you, isn’t it? It’s been you all along. 

“Why do I feel like I know what you’re gonna say?” Billy bit his lip and held Steve’s gaze. “I think you know my answer as well.” Steve swallowed. 

“I sure hope it’s changed.” Billy looked at him as if he would stop the world from turning if it meant that they could stay in this moment with this light, however long it would take for Steve to say the words. 

Steve opened his mouth, smiled. His stomach lurched and for a moment he feared he might have leaned in too far and slipped off the edge. 

“Given the choice of anyone in the world - dead or alive - who would you most want to have dinner with tonight?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And then they went to Enzo's, talked about how much they love each other and went down to Lover's Lake to make sweet love in the moonlight. The End.
> 
> At least for now :)  
As I hinted in the forest scene, there is still a story to be told about the road trip to Cali. Maybe I'll write that fic at some point but there's another story I know I want to get to first. 
> 
> But this marks the end of Definitely Something! It's insane to think that this is c o m p l e t e d. It's all out there now and you just read it. It's the wildest thing. I honest to god couldn't have done it without your support. Most of the time I write a story and I lose interest around 30k, but this time I decided to take the leap and start posting it and your comments really kept me motivated and inspired. 
> 
> Please let me know your thoughts on this finale! Was it what you expected? Did it ruin you the good ways?   
There was one moment where I actually cried while writing this and it was when Emma gave Steve that drawing. I felt for my boy so hard. It was just so innocent and sweet and I was like o h yes right in the feels. 
> 
> As usual, I'm @kingsandsaints
> 
> Come hang out on the Tumble with me. I also draw Harringrove fanart. When I find the time I wanna do some drawings based on this story, primarily Billy's picture with Mars. I think the world could really use Billy with a baby right now.


End file.
